A Hopeless Wound
by Orison
Summary: A heinous act from a vengeful enemy brings Bosco close to the edge. Will his friends be able to help?
1. Default Chapter

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A Hopeless Wound 

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Author: Stella aka Orison   
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing, just a couple pics I can't stop looking at... ;)   
  
Rating: PG-13 for now  
  
Spoilers: General knowledge of the series up through season five.   
  
Summary: A heinous act from a vengeful enemy brings Bosco close to the edge. Will his friends be able to help?  
  
Author's note: I'm back! :) Sorry I haven't posted in a while, but I hope to make up with this fic... I know you guys love angst, and they say I'm quite good at it, so there's a chance you'll like this story as much as I do. Oh, and please tell me what you think about it. 

***

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'We understand Death for the first time when He puts his hands upon one whom we love.'

M.Me De Stael

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Chapter one

***

The sun was sinking low on the horizon, casting an orange glow over the 400-acre island and its ten major facilities.

Each of the giant bulbs on the four corners of the building suddenly lit up as shadows started to play with the brick towers and the barbed-wire fence that surrounded Riker's biggest jail.

It would be dinnertime soon. 

Inside, detainees lined up in the long corridor waiting to be escorted to the cafeteria while correction officers surveyed the scene. 

Despite being a maximum-security building, every inmate was allowed to spend a considerable amount of time outside his cell, and that gave him plenty of opportunities to cause trouble.

If the cream-painted walls could talk, they'd tell gruesome stories and scream at what the world had become.

He sighed in anticipation as the warden led him through the narrow walkway. He was looking forward to his phone call today, as he'd been since his younger brother's visit two weeks ago.

The shackles prevented him from moving as quickly as he would, but he tried not to show his eagerness as his bound feet shuffled across the pavement.

"What, big boy's expecting good news tonight?" the officer asked, noticing the smirk on his face.

"Yeah. Something like that." He grinned.

"Well, we wouldn't want to be late then, would we?" the guard replied, roughly pushing him through a black, steel door.

He stiffened but kept his eyes straight ahead, his mind already focusing on what he hoped would be his brother's words. 

The sound of metal clinking became a distant noise as they slowly walked the rest of the way, passing gate after gate until they finally reached the phones.

In the adjacent room, rapists, murderers and drug dealers loudly gathered around the plastic tables and started to eat.

"Two minutes. You know the drill." The guard handed him the receiver and pointed to a corner a few feet away. "I'll be right there so don't say anything stupid."

He smiled, not really paying attention to the other man's words. His fingers impatiently dialled the number and he leaned forward, his elbow resting on the wall nearby as he waited for someone to pick up.

"Yeah."

"It's me."

"Hey! What's up, man?" 

"Cut the crap J, and tell me what I wanna hear."

"You know you should be proud of me, bro. I did everything you asked. We're ready to go."

He smiled and briefly looked at the guard, then tilted his head so it would remain hidden from the man's view. "So you're all set for tonight?"

"Yeah, just as we planned. Lenny's gonna be driving the car and I'll personally take care of the problem."

"Good." He whispered, nodding slightly. "I'm going to trust you here, J. You do your job and you do it good, alright? No mistakes."

"Relax, man. I know what I'm doing. Everything's gonna be alright."

"It will be when I hear that arrogant son of a bitch got what he deserved." 

He heard footsteps approaching and realized his time was up. "Be careful. I'll call you tomorrow."

The uniformed officer quickly snatched the phone from his hand and placed it on its hook. "So, how did you like your good news?" He asked though he couldn't really care less about the prisoner's lives.

He smiled. "Best news I've ever heard, pal. And it's only going to get better."

"Whatever." The guard mumbled before escorting him to the cafeteria where the others were already finishing their meal.

***

"Man, this place's as cold as the North Pole!" Bosco complained as he stepped into his mother's house, rubbing his hands in a vain attempt to generate some warmth.

"And how would you know that?" Rose replied, an amused expression on her face.

He rolled his eyes. "Don't start with me, Ma. Not tonight."

She smiled. "Where are you going?"

"To see what's wrong with the damn furnace." He muttered as he headed down the stairs to the basement.

Rose shook her head and took her coat off, hanging it up by the door.

Her son was such a complex person. He had a big heart and would do anything for the people he cared about, but he'd only learned one way to deal with life, and that was to fight, meaning he was also stubborn as hell. No wonder his attitude had gotten him into trouble more times than she could count. 

She heard a noise coming from downstairs and instinctively turned around toward it. "Maurice? Is everything alright?"

"Damn thing's not working!" Bosco yelled from the basement.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure, Ma." Another noise followed. "Definitely looks dead to me."

A few moments later he was back in the living room. "What are you doing?"

"Grabbing some extra blankets. If the furnace's not working I'm gonna need them tonight."

"You're not staying here." He said firmly as he took the blankets from her and put them back in the closet.

She shrugged. "Oh, come on, it's not like it's never happened before." 

Bosco flinched at her words, realizing he hadn't been around enough to know it.

"Thanks for giving me a ride home honey but really, it's okay."

He put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm serious, Ma. It's freezing in here." His voice was soft, his tone caring. "I'm taking you to my place, alright?"

"Maurice..."

"No arguments. You're staying with me tonight." He grabbed her coat and helped her put it on again.

"Thank you, baby." Rose leaned forward and gave her son a light kiss on the cheek. "Just let me get a few things, okay? I'll be right back."

***

"You want something to eat? I'm sure I can find something in the fridge."

"No. I'm okay, honey."

Bosco nodded and removed his jacket before carrying his mother's bag to the bedroom. He smiled as he put it down on the floor and straightened the sheets on the bed, making sure his scattered clothes were safely tucked in the closet and out of her sight.

He would never admit it to anyone, but he liked having her around. Sure she could piss him at times, but he loved her more than anything.

"I'll look for a repairman in the yellow pages first thing in the morning." He said as he went back into the living room. 

Rose smiled from where she was sitting on the couch and motioned for him to get closer. Bosco took a few steps forward and sat down next to her. She stared at him for a long moment.

"What's up, Ma?" he asked softly.

"You tell me, Maurice." She replied, her blue eyes full of concern.

"What do you mean?"

Rose placed her hand on his cheek. "You look sad. You've been acting strange lately, and I can tell you're upset about something."

"I'm okay." He nodded quickly. "Don't worry about me."

She shook her head. "Too late. I'm already worried, so you better start spilling it out. Besides, that's what mothers do, right?"

Bosco lowered his gaze. 

"What's wrong, Maurice? Is it work?"

He sighed as he felt some of his resolve quickly fade away. All it took was one look from his mother and he'd end up telling her everything. He had no idea how she did that, but he sure wished he could use the same trick.

"I just feel like... like I don't fit in the picture anymore. I mean look at me, I failed my job, my family, and I've managed to ruin the life of everybody I care about." His voice dropped and he swallowed hard to ease the tightness in his throat. 

Rose knew her son didn't like to talk about his feelings, and it surprised her that he was willing to reveal that much so she squeezed his hand, urging him to continue.

"This have something to do with Faith?"

His eyes darted away, but he forced them back to look at her. "She won't talk to me, Ma." He admitted, his voice sad. "She won't even let me anywhere near her."

"I'm sorry, baby." She shifted her weight and moved closer to him. "She back at work?"

Bosco shook his head. "Not yet. But it won't get better."

"You don't know that."

"Believe me, I do." He rubbed his face, then leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees.

"Well, I don't believe you."

His head jerked up and he stared at her, eyes wide.

"You two have been partners for what, ten years? That's a big part of your lives, Maurice. You don't forget ten years in one night and pretend they never happened. She'll talk to you when she's ready."

He exhaled slowly. "Yeah, right."

"As for letting your family down, I'm sorry but I don't know what you're talking about. How many times do I have to tell you that I'm proud of you?"

"Proud..." he repeated in disbelief. "What the hell did I do to make you proud? I didn't protect you from dad, I... I couldn't save Mikey..."

"You did everything you could."

"Well it wasn't enough!" He replied, his voice somewhere between hurt and angered. "I... I tried to get him off drugs, but he wouldn't listen..." 

Rose pulled him into her arms. "I know."

"Maybe if he'd grown up in a stable family he'd have been different, you know. Happier. All he needed was another chance..."

She reached up to touch his face. "Your father took that chance away from you. From all of us. It wasn't your fault."

Bosco took a deep breath and pushed himself off the couch, moving over to the window. He pulled back the curtains and gazed outside.

Rose stared after him. She knew he'd always felt responsible for not being able to save Mikey from his own actions. He was the oldest brother, the carrier of burdens, but he hadn't been able to carry Mikey's or to teach him to shoulder his own. 

"You've always been too hard on yourself. Not everything that happens is your fault, you hear me? And I sure as hell don't blame you for any of this."

She walked up to him and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You're one of the best things that happened to me, Maurice. Don't you ever forget that. God knows where I'd be if I didn't have you in my life..."

"I'm sorry, Ma." He whispered, eyes still fixed on the street outside. "I didn't bring you here to show you how miserable my life is."

"It's okay, baby. I'm glad you told me. And you know you can talk to me about everything, right?"

He covered her hand with his own. "I know."

She patted him on the back. "Still think I don't know you, stranger?"

A smile crossed his face. She always knew how to make him feel better. He turned his head and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. "You're the best."

"I love you too, baby." She took a deep breath. "So, you ready to call it a night?"

He nodded. "Sure. You go ahead and change. Bathroom's all yours."

Rose reluctantly let go of his son's hand and walked away as Bosco stole another glance at the city outside. He was so lucky to have her in his life. Faith had helped him many times in the past, but his mother had been the only constant, the only one who'd comforted him as a frightened child and helped him turn into the man he was today.

Another smile curved his lips and he tried to convince himself that in time, everything would be okay. Mothers are always right, aren't they?

A moment later, the sound of a gunshot and glass shattering pierced the air.

TBC...


	2. chapter two

A Hopeless Wound (2/?)

Author's Note: Wow... I mean, wow! I totally wasn't expecting all those great reviews, you guys really made my day! :) A BIG thank you to everyone who replied. If you didn't, here's another chance to let me know if you like the story. (thirdwatchfanatic, thanks for your suggestion, that's what happens when english is not your first language...)

So, you ready to find out who got shot? 

Enjoy!

***

Chapter two

***

Bosco instinctively ducked from where he was leaning against the wall as he heard the bullet splinter through the glass. He stood still for a moment, waiting for a second shot, but it never came.

Slowly raising his head, he looked up at the window.

His eyes widened. It was still intact.

He carefully stood up, his hand clutching the curtain as he peered outside. 

Nothing.

Still shaken, he raked a hand through his hair and looked to the doorway. His blood froze. "Ma?"

Fear stabbed him, and he had to force down the panic that followed as he hurried out of the room and down the hall. "Ma!"

Heart racing underneath his shirt, he strained to locate a shape in the darkness of the apartment as he called her again. 

No answer.

A gust of cold wind hit him as soon as he entered the bedroom, and he stared in horror at the broken window. His gaze slowly travelled to the shards of glass littering the floor, and finally came to rest on his mother's still body lying on top of them.

"Ma? Oh no..." he immediately crouched down beside her and started to apply pressure on the wound, trying not to focus on the red stain growing wider and wider on her white blouse. "Mom, talk to me! Oh no... no, no, no..." he repeated over and over, shaking his head as tears welled up in his eyes. 

"Maurice..." Rose murmured, her eyes searching Bosco's frightened ones.

"I'm here, Ma. It's okay, I got you."

"You... hurt?" her voice was barely louder than a whisper.

He chocked back a sob. "No, I'm okay. Just... just stay with me. I'm gonna get you help."

Satisfied that her son wasn't injured, Rose slowly closed her eyes. Bosco's stomach sank. "Stay with me, Ma... stay with me..."

He shifted, placing her head into his lap, then pulled his cell phone out of his jeans pocket and frantically dialled 911. A few moments passed before he heard a voice on the other end of the line. "Yeah, this is... Maurice Boscorelli, NYPD, badge number 3379. My mother... she was shot. I need a bus on a rush." He blinked back tears. "1844 148th street, apartment 10. Hurry up. Please..."

After shoving the phone back into his pocket, he grasped his mother's hand. "Did you hear that, mom? They're coming, but you need to stay awake. Please open your eyes..." His voice cracked as the tears finally started to fall but he kept talking, begging her to hold on until the paramedics showed up, his left hand still firmly pressed on her chest to try and stop the bleeding.

***

Jermaine Marks smiled to himself as he slid into the passenger's seat and listened to the engine roaring as the car quickly sped away from the scene, the rifle that had just fired the evil shot now safely tucked under the backseat. 

The good thing about ground-level apartments was that they provided quick escape routes, and that was one of the reasons why he'd agreed to do the job in the first place. He could kill a man and make his escape in less than a minute. 

"We did good, Len." he said to his brother, patting him on the shoulder. "Real good." 

They'd followed the cop for close to two weeks, learned his habits and schedule, and agreed that the best way to go was to surprise him when he came home at night, but a stupid accident between a car and an MTA bus had cost he and Leonard almost an hour. When they'd finally reached the building, the man was already home.

Vernon had told them to make sure he was alone, but they didn't have time to check that. He'd always been alone. Why would tonight be any different?

Jermaine had almost been ready to fire when he'd first spotted him leaning against the window, but then Leonard had drawn his attention to a man walking his dog on the opposite side of the street, and he'd had to get back in the car. A few moments later, he'd seen him again in the other room, and this time he'd pulled the trigger.

The shot had meant to kill, and although the man had moved at the last second, he was almost positive that he would not recover from his wound. 

He remembered the excitement coursing through his veins just before he'd fired his weapon. He hadn't experienced something like that in a long time, since his days with the Marines, but in that split second, as he held the man's life in his hands, he'd felt truly alive.

Vernon was right. It was a great feeling.

"One shot, baby. BANG!" Leonard laughed from the driver's side, his fingers mimicking the shape of a gun. 

"You said it, bro." He grinned. "I'm still the man!" 

Jermaine didn't know much about the cop, but he didn't need it. Vernon was in jail because of him, and that was enough.

***

Bosco stood outside the trauma room, his teary eyes fixed on the blur of activity surrounding his mother's unconscious body. 

He hadn't moved or said a word to anyone since he'd bustled through the emergency doors, but the look of utter desperation on his face spoke volumes, and the whole medical personnel, from the head doctor down to the very last nurse, was doing their best not to get in his way.

The name Maurice Boscorelli was familiar at Angel of Mercy, but today they all wished they'd never seen this side of him. It was far more preferable to deal with his bad attitude than to witness his silent pain. 

Mary Proctor, the only one who was partly aware of his family's history, had met his gaze a couple times as she feverishly worked along with the doctor. She'd tried to give him a small smile, but she knew better than to lie to him. His mother was in very serious condition, and although they usually never gave up on their patients, Mary could tell her chances of recovery were pretty slim. 

All she could do was pray for a miracle. She really didn't want to be the one to break the news to him if the woman didn't make it.

After what seemed like an hour, the doors finally slid open. Dr. Fields, who was holding one end of the gurney, was the first to come out, followed by Mary and two other nurses he didn't recognize.

"How is she?" Bosco asked as he broke out of his trance and gripped the metal railing, following them across the long corridor.

"We need to move her to the OR. Now. You can take the other elevator to the surgical waiting area."

He nodded and took Rose's hand. "Ma, can you hear me? It's gonna be okay."

She moaned and weakly turned her head toward her son's voice.

"They need to take you up to surgery now, but I'll be right outside. It's gonna be alright..."

Rose gave his hand a light squeeze and tried to moisten her lips.

He leaned closer, ignoring the doctor's disapproving stare. "What is it, Mom?" 

She felt the warmth of his breath on her face and despite the increasing pain, managed to utter a few words. "I... I'm glad it was me and not... you." She knew there was a chance she might notmake it, and tried to prepare him so he wouldn't take it too hard. "Thank you... for keeping that promise." 

A lonely tear slid down his cheek.

"Maurice..."

"Yeah."

"Don't be sad... I love you." She whispered, her eyes pleading for him to understand.

"I love you too." Bosco kissed her on her forehead, struggling to hold onto his composure while stopping himself from shattering into a million pieces.

Mary bit her bottom lip and turned away, almost embarrassed to have been the involuntary witness of such a private moment. 

"Officer, we really need to go now." Dr. Field's voice was grave.

He nodded again and moved aside, watching them as they disappeared inside the elevator. His hand was shaking as he lifted it to rub his temple, the same hand that had tried to stop his mother's precious blood from leaking on the tile floor just half an hour ago.

__

'Don't you die before me...' 

The words she'd said to him after the fire at the grocery store were still echoing in his ears. 

__

'Thank you... for keeping that promise'

'Don't be sad... I love you'

A shiver ran down his spine. It almost sounded as if she... No, she wouldn't... she couldn't.

Swallowing hard, he slowly made his way to the fifth floor.

This was going to be a long night. 

TBC... 


	3. chapter three

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A Hopeless Wound (3/?)

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A/N: Once again, thank you so much for the amazing feedback. It really inspires me to write more. This is probably the most difficult thing I've ever written, but as long as you guys keep the reviews coming, I'll try and do my best to give you a new chapter every week. Please be patient and let me know if this fic is worth all my time! :)

***

Chapter three

***

Lieutenant Swersky was almost ready to leave the precinct and go home for the night when he got the call.

He was running late, and the uneventful shift had already stretched too long for his liking. Days like this always carried bad news, and he was glad it was almost over. All he had to do was sign the last report and he'd be out of the place.

That was before the news of the shooting at Boscorelli's apartment had hit the House.

The desk Sergeant's face was tight with worry as he announced that someone had just attempted to kill one of his officers, and Swersky's first reaction had been one of total disbelief. Then the news had gotten even worse, and he'd learned that the bullet had hit Bosco's mother and that she was on her way to Mercy in critical conditions.

He shook his head and quickly rose from his chair, heading outside the office. Looking around to see if any of the 3rd watch officers was still in the building, he spotted Ty Davis coming out of the locker room, still in his uniform.

He immediately got the young man's attention.

"You wanted to see me, Sir?"

"Yes."

Davis saw the look on his superior's eyes and felt his stomach tense, as if steeling for a blow, before he even knew what had happened. 

"I need you to drive me to Mercy."

Hearing the hospital's name only confirmed that it was indeed bad news. 

"Something happened?"

Swersky took a deep breath. "There's been an accident. Someone fired a shot through Boscorelli's apartment window. His mother's hurt."

"Damn..." he murmured, and for a moment he simply stood there, feeling a rush of sadness that struck too close to home. "He alright?" 

"I think so. But I need to talk to him."

"Sure. I... I'll start the car." Ty offered, almost forcing the words out of his mouth.

The Lieutenant nodded. "I'll just be a minute."

He turned around and stepped back into the office to retrieve his jacket and tell his wife he would be late tonight.

As he leaned on his desk, phone in hand, his thoughts went on Bosco. He'd been there through the man's worst moments, from his PTSD to the Hobart incident, down to the whole fallout between him and his ten-year partner Faith Yokas. After seeing his reactions to all these traumatic events, he couldn't help but wonder if this would be the straw that broke the camel's back.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he said a silent prayer and headed outside. 

***

Ty sighed and glanced at his watch. 5:54am. He got up and stretched out his cramped muscles.

The waiting room was empty except for he and Bosco, who was sipping his fourth black coffee and absently staring down at his feet.

Swersky had left hours ago, but Davis just didn't have the heart to leave his friend, and had offered to sit with him. Bosco hadn't been thrilled, but he didn't tell him to go either, and that in his book was a definite yes. 

Unfortunately, Bosco hadn't seen a thing, and his account of what had happened in the apartment wasn't going to help in any way, but the Lieutenant had promised a round-the-clock investigation. If the shooter had really fired from the opposite side of the street then there was a chance that a neighbour or a passer-by had seen something.

It wasn't much, but it was all they had.

The PD always shows up at the scene of an accident along with the paramedics, but when the victim is a fellow cop or a member of his family it becomes a personal matter, and the best people usually assist, trying everything to ensure the criminal is brought to justice.

"How are you, man?" Ty asked, finally voicing the question that had bothered him since he'd set foot in the hospital and breaking the silence that had fallen like a dead weight on the room. 

Bosco shrugged. Truth was he felt like shit, but Davis didn't need to know that. 

"It's been four hours." He stated after a few moments, his eyes still downcast toward the floor. "Four hours and still no word."

Ty wasn't really expecting him to talk, but welcomed his frail attempt at a conversation. "I don't know, Bos. These things take time." He replied uncomfortably. 

"Yeah."

Raising his head, Bosco spotted a nurse and immediately ran up to her. "Any news?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, officer. She's still in surgery. If you want to sit down and wait over..."

"I don't want to sit down, I want to know how my mother is doing!" he yelled, his voice straining with anxiety and fear.

Davis rose to his feet and hurried over to them. "Easy, Bos. Calm down, alright?"

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry." He raked a hand through his hair and turned around.

Ty gave the nurse an apologetic nod and led Bosco back to the plastic chairs on the other side of the room.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, sorry about that. Listen, I appreciate you being here and all, Davis, but it's late. You should really go home."

"I will, man, I will. Just not now." 

Bosco nodded and leaned his head back against the wall. 

***

"Bosco? Bosco, wake up, man."

The voice became increasingly louder, and he realized he was being shaken. _Ma?_ He became instantly alert. "What? Is it ma? Is she alright?" 

His eyes focused on Davis' face. 

"She's out of surgery. The doctor wants to talk to you."

He nearly leapt out of his chair. _Ma's fighting for her life and I've fallen asleep._ "Thanks, Davis." 

Rubbing his face, he turned his attention to the doctor that was standing a few feet from him. He looked exhausted, and his bloody scrubs only served to make his heart beat faster. 

"She alright?" he immediately asked.

The man folded his arms across his chest. "Your mother is currently listed as critical. We found extensive damage to her abdominal area, which is why the surgery took longer than we expected. She also suffered a massive internal bleeding, but we were able to stop that. Frankly, I'm surprised she made it this far." 

Davis moved to stand next to Bosco and glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

"The bullet entered just below her rib cage and travelled upward through the stomach, lodging itself in her left lung." The doctor continued, using his hands to help them understand what he was saying. "We've managed to repair both organs, but right now the possibilities of a complete recovery are less than 40%. If she survives the day, we'll run more tests and hopefully upgrade her conditions from critical to serious." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I'm sorry I can't give you better news." 

The words took a moment to register but when they did, Bosco's features visibly paled and he stood there, hands thrust deeply into his pockets, unable to say a word.

Ty put a hand on his shoulder. "You okay, man?"

Bosco swallowed hard and nodded his head slightly. "I wanna see her."

"Of course. A nurse will come and get you as soon as we move her into a room."

"Thank you, doctor." Davis shook the man's hand.

"I'll see you later." He excused himself and walked away.

Ty gave his friend a concerned look. "You want me to call anyone?"

"What? No, I... no."

"Okay." 

The room fell silent again. Ty was perfectly aware of what Bosco was going through. He'd been only a kid when his father was killed, but there are things you just can't forget, and although he didn't want to intrude, he knew that no one should be alone in situations like that.

"I always figured I'd be the one laying in a hospital bed with a gunshot wound." Bosco said quietly. "Never crossed my mind that it would be the other way around."

"Don't give up on her, man. There's still hope."

"I won't."

He sounded tired, nearly flat, like he had no emotions left. Ty had never heard him sound like this before.

"Go home, Davis. Get some rest. I'm going to sit with her now." He said as he spotted a nurse coming his way.

The younger man nodded. "Okay. I'll try and stop by later. Call me if you need anything." He grabbed his jacket and started to leave.

"Ty." Bosco called after him.  


"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." 

***

Rose lay beneath the stark white hospital sheets. 

Her chest rose and fell peacefully as the respirator pumped air into her lungs and a heart monitor beeped in rhythm to her pulse.

Bosco was beside her, asleep with his head on the edge of the bed, his hand cradling her wrist. Mary Proctor had draped a blanket around his shoulders an hour ago, and he hadn't even stirred. 

When another nurse came to change his mother's IV, he finally woke up.

"How is she?"

The young woman smiled sympathetically. "Still holding her own."

He sighed. That meant she was no worse, but definitely not any better.

As soon as the nurse left the room, he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it gently. "I love you, Ma. Please wake up."

He thought of all the years and all the ways Fate had been unkind to them, of all the things they'd survived together, of the stuff he still hadn't told her, and wondered why it took something like this to understand what was really important in life.

He would turn back the clock if he could. He would visit her more, ignore her less, and concentrate on all the little things that used to make her smile.

"Come on, Ma." He whispered. "I need you."

He felt her hand move and expectantly looked up, but her eyes remained closed. They'd warned him about it, told him that it was just an involuntary reaction, but he wasn't sure if he should believe them or not.

Leaning forward, he gazed down at her, realizing that her chest was no longer moving. She wasn't breathing.

A machine started to beep.

Bosco dropped his mother's hand and raced into the hallway. "Somebody help us!" he yelled, his voice frantic. "Help!"

The same nurse who'd just checked on her immediately rushed in, followed by the doctor and the clatter of wheels as Mary Proctor carried a piece of equipment to the room.

He ran after them and listened as they shouted strange codes and the machine continued to beep. "Ma? What's going on?"

He tried to take a couple steps forward but one of the nurses pushed him aside.

"Mary, what's going on?" he asked again, his tone desperate.

The doctor gave her a look and she quickly walked up to him. "You can't stay in here, Bosco." She put a hand on his shoulder and ushered him out the door. "Go wait outside. The doctor will talk to you in a minute."

Tears welled up in his eyes as he watched his mother's body lying helpless on the bed, but he let Mary guide him away from her.

He started to pace the hallway, but that only helped to increase his nervousness, so he sat down in one of the plastic chairs nearby and rested his head in his hands. 

Minutes passed, but it might as well have been a year. 

Finally, he heard the door open and close. Bosco looked up to see the doctor standing in front of him. He tried to read the man's face as the muscles in his abdomen tightened, realizing that he was preparing himself for something bad, steeling his body before he heard the news.

"I'm sorry..."

TBC...


	4. chapter four

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A Hopeless Wound (4/?)

***

A/N: I'm a monster. I know it, and I feel bad about it. Rose is by far my favourite minor character, and I've debated for days whether or not I was doing the right thing. The thought that I usually tend to hurt the characters I love doesn't help but truth is, there would be really no point in writing this story if I let her live.

Yes, it's a sad piece, but I hope you'll keep reading anyway... ;)

This said, here's chapter four. Once again, this one was difficult to write, because it deals with Bosco and Faith's first encounter after she told him to go away. (How could I NOT bring her into the picture? :) ) I had this idea in mind, but wasn't sure you guys would like it. 

In the end, I decided to follow my instinct so I went with it. I really couldn't imagine this scene written in any other way.

Now go ahead, read the chapter and let me know if my decision was right.

***

Chapter four

***

Faith pulled on her hat and slowly got out of the taxi.

The morning air was crisp, but the sun was blazing into a cloudless sky, and that always put her in a good mood.

It was great to be back outside. But most of all, it was great to stand on her feet again. It had taken her almost three months of exhausting physical therapy, but she'd finally regained most of her strength, and was ready to go back to work.

Sure the Lieutenant would put her on a desk at first, but anything was better than staying at home reading magazines and watching her life pass her by.

She adjusted the scarf around her neck and walked toward the entrance of Angel of Mercy, where she was supposed to get her medical clearance. After that, she would meet up with Swersky to talk about her upcoming first shift.

Inside, the familiar smell of antiseptic immediately greeted her, along with the sound of people talking and machines beeping. They brought back sad memories of the time she'd spent there as a patient, but she shook her head and pushed them away.

Nothing was going to ruin her good mood today.

At the nurses' desk, she was told that the doctor was going to visit her in his office on the fifth floor, and that Mary Proctor would take her upstairs in a minute. 

Stepping out of the elevator, Faith's eyes were suddenly drawn to the right to a lone figure slumped into a chair. His head was lowered, but there was no mistaking him. Bosco. 

Her heart lurched at the sight.

Although she hadn't seen him in months, his presence triggered more memories, and she found herself unable to tear her gaze away from him. 

When he raised his head a moment later, Faith instinctively froze, but he just looked straight ahead, giving no indication that he'd actually seen her. She kept staring at him, trying to decide if she should approach him or not. That's when she noticed that his eyes were red and puffy and that his clothes were covered in blood.

"Mary, what's wrong?" She asked nervously, her hands fidgeting with the winter cap.

The nurse followed her line of sight. "You don't know?" She asked, a surprised expression on her face. "It's Bosco. His mother died a short while ago." 

Faith took an involuntary step back. "What? How?"

"Gunshot wound to the chest. He's in pretty bad shape."

"Yeah, I... I can see that. Where is she?"

"Room four. They're short a nurse up here, so I volunteered to take care of her and a few other patients."

"God..." 

Rose was dead. No wonder he looked like hell. Bosco's life basically revolved around his mother, the only person who'd loved him unconditionally despite his moments of weakness and the mistakes he'd made. 

As his partner, she'd witnessed several conversations between the two of them over the years, but the only one that stood out in her mind had happened inside this very hospital, after he'd nearly killed the guy who'd beaten her up.

She could remember the pain in his eyes as he looked at her bruised face, the determination on his face as he swore to personally take care of everyone who even touched her whether she liked it or not, the hurt in his voice at the memories that twenty years later still haunted him.

Their relationship hadn't always been friendly or sweet, but from what she'd seen, neither of them could do without the other.

She couldn't even begin to imagine the enormous pain he must be feeling right now.

Unaware of her worried gaze, Bosco leaned forward and covered his face with his hands.

He struck her as a hollow man, a body whose spirit had been defeated. The people who'd seen him after the shooting in Noble's hotel room said he'd looked the same way, but she knew this pain was ten times worse.

Her brain was racing with conflicting thoughts. Part of her wanted to reach out to him and say that she was sorry, for his loss and for pushing him away, but there was also a voice telling her that she had no right to feel bad for him. She'd chosen Fred after all, her marriage over his friendship. She didn't deserve it anymore. 

Yet her feet refused to move and her heart hadn't slowed down its rate. 

Mary sensed Faith's discomfort and decided to leave. "I'll tell the doctor you're here."

Faith nodded and took a tentative step towards Bosco. She swallowed hard, wondering why it was suddenly so hard to talk to somebody she'd called her partner and best friend for the last ten years. 

Then it dawned on her.

She was afraid. Afraid of what his reaction would be, afraid to learn that he'd moved on, afraid that he would lash out at her like a wounded animal just as she'd done with him in the past.

And she was sorry. Sorry to have been too self-absorbed to notice his pain, sorry she'd left him behind, sorry that he'd had to go through the most traumatic event of his life alone.

A tear leaked from the corner of her eye. She should've been there for him, just as he'd been there for her when Fred had his heart attack, or when Emily had overdosed. She hadn't, but maybe it wasn't too late. The thought gave her enough hope to make her decision.

She'd known Rose for almost a decade, and had always respected her courage and strength. Raising two children alone wasn't an easy task, but she'd managed to do a remarkable job, at least with her first born. She'd forged Bosco's true nature, his caring and compassionate side, had turned him into the man she'd trusted daily with her life, and she'd done all this while working two jobs and trying to keep her family together. 

Faith just hoped to be half as brave as the older woman had been.

Letting out a small breath, she moved closer. "Bosco?"

He didn't react, and she realized he probably hadn't even heard her so she tried again a little louder. "Bosco?"

His head finally turned and as their eyes met, her heart nearly broke at the pain she saw there. 

If he was surprised to see her, he didn't show it.

"I... I heard about your mom."

He looked away and focused his attention back to the wall in front of him.

"I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. I know we haven't..."

"Go away." His voice was soft but firm.

"Bos?"

He rose to his feet and was beside her in an instant, his face mere inches from hers. "Don't... call me that. You're not my partner anymore." He hissed, his finger stabbing the air. 

Faith jumped, startled by his reaction, but held her ground.

She'd seen him angry before, but never like this. His words hurt, but it was the look in his eyes that scared her the most. The light was gone, as well as the old familiar sparkle. He definitely looked worse than she thought and for the first time in her life, she was actually afraid of him.

"Bosco, please... I just want to talk to you..." she said, holding out one hand.

"You want to talk to me." He repeated, staring at her. "Why, Faith? You haven't talked to me in months! Said you didn't want me around anymore." His voice picked up a notch. "And then what, you hear my mother's dead and suddenly wanna be my friend again? Well, guess what, it doesn't work that way!" 

He was obviously hurting, and needed to let his anger out, but that didn't make Faith feel any better. Maybe because he was speaking the truth.

"Look, we both made mistakes, but this isn't the right time or place to talk about that." She said, nervously shifting her weight from side to side. Of all the different scenarios she'd played in her mind for their first encounter after the mess with Cruz, this was definitely the worst. "I just thought you needed..."

"I'll tell you what I -don't- need, Faith. I don't need your pity, and I don't need you here. You're just talking out of guilt." 

She tried to touch his arm but he pushed her hand away. "Think you can play me into forgetting? I won't. I was ready to give up everything for you. Lose my job, go to jail, everything. But you decided I wasn't worth it anymore, and I felt..." He shook his head. "You know what, you don't need to know how I felt. Go back to your family. I don't want you here."

Tears welled up in her eyes. "You're just hurting, you don't mean that."

"How do you know that, huh? You have no idea what it's like..." He said in a teary whisper. "Go away, Faith." He turned around and sat back into one of the chairs. 

"Maybe you should go see the doctor now." Faith looked up to see Mary Proctor standing in front of her. Unable to reply, she just nodded her head and walked away as tears started to flow down her cheeks.

Mary stood there, studying Bosco for a moment. His eyes were closed, but she could tell he was crying.

She wasn't sure what had happened between them, but from what she'd learned in the past, Faith was the only one able to reason with him. Faith, and probably his mother. Unfortunately, the first wasn't apparently welcome anymore, and the latter was dead.

Following her instinct and firmly believing that sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger than a friend or a relative, she took a seat next to him. 

"I'm sorry, Bosco." She said softly. "We did everything we could."

"I know. It's just..." He opened his eyes and turned to face her. "It's not fair." 

"I know."

"That's... that's the hardest part."

He sighed and pushed himself into a standing position. "She wanted to help me, you know. She was the one who was dying, but she knew that I had to..." his voice trailed off.

"You had to go on living after she was gone." She whispered, recalling the short conversation she'd witnessed as they were wheeling Rose up to surgery.

Bosco nodded. 

"I'd have traded places with her in a heartbeat." He added quietly. "I'd have climbed into that bed and taken all the pain. I'd have done anything."

Mary stood up and touched his shoulder. "She knew it. And I could tell she loved you very much." 

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a golden necklace with a cross-shaped pendant. "I've got something for you." She said as she handed it to him. "We found it in the trauma room. Must've fallen while we were moving her to the bed.

Bosco stared at the small object until it was nothing more than a blur through the tears, then took a deep breath to try and calm himself down. These people had already seen too much. "Think I can see her one last time?"

She smiled. "Sure. I'll take you to her."

***

Leonard Marks nearly chocked on his sandwich as he read the headlines of Channel Four News and realized he and his brother had screwed up. Big time.

They'd spent the whole night celebrating, driving around and drinking beer until dawn, and then fallen asleep, letting the effects of the alcohol wear off.

Leonard always been a light sleeper, so when the son of a bitch in the apartment next to them had crashed what sounded like a lamp against the wall, he'd woken up and decided to make himself a snack. 

Shooting up with an empty stomach wasn't smart, and he needed a hit badly.

Grabbing the remote, he put up the volume. _Fuck._

J was going to be pissed, and Vernon... he really didn't want to think about Vernon.

He pushed himself off the chair and shuffled to the other room. "Wake up, man. We got a problem."

Jermaine groaned and rolled over in the bed, pulling the blankets higher up to cover his head.

"I'm serious, bro. This is one you're gonna want to hear." Leonard insisted as he turned on the light.

"Son of a bitch! What the hell is wrong with you, man?" his brother protested, bringing a hand up to his forehead to shield his eyes from the bright light. 

"The cop's alive."

"What?"

"I just heard the news, man. They're showing his house and stuff. You killed his mother."

"Shit." Jermaine tossed the covers aside and jumped out of bed. "His mother?" He ran a hand over his bald head.

"Yeah. Some lady from Queens." Leonard leaned against the wall. "How in hell did you fuck that up, man?"

Jermaine reached over and grabbed his brother's shirt, twisting it tightly around his fist. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, man. Nothing..." he said, holding his hands out in defense. "But Vernon's gonna be mad. We were supposed to check, you know, make sure he was alone." He broke free of Jermaine's grasp and sat on the edge of the bed. "Now what?"

"Now we fix it, Len! We find out where he is, and we take care of it."

Leonard nodded. "I'll get dressed."

TBC...


	5. chapter five

****

A Hopeless Wound (5/?)

***

A/N: Thank you, thank you , thank you! You guys are the best... :) Your amazing feedback is the force that keeps me writing, and I really appreciate it. One of the compliments I've received is that my stories are believable, and that my charaters act like they would do on the 'real' show. Well, that's the best thing you could've told me, because that's exactly what I want to achieve. 

Speaking about that, thirdwatchfanatic, you have nothing to worry about. I write my characters just like I think they'd behave on the show, so no Bosco/Faith romance. As for Fred, I don't really like the guy, but you're gonna see him in one of the next chapters, and he won't be a jerk. *lol* 

Enjoy! 

***

Chapter five

***

"You started the coffee?" Ty asked his friend and FDNY Paramedic Carlos as he walked into the kitchen of the apartment they shared.

"Nope. I just woke up." The young man replied as he grabbed a box of cereals and started to pour them into his bowl.

"Great."

"You were late tonight. Hot date?"

Davis shook his head. "No, man, I... Nevermind, I gotta go."

"Hey, why are you in such a hurry?"

"I uh... I promised Bosco I'd stop by at the hospital before the shift. His mother was shot last night."

"Oh." Carlos' face grew suddenly serious. "I just heard it on the news."

"Heard what?"

"About the shooting. Must be hard to lose a parent like that." He shrugged. _Not that I'll ever know._

Ty's eyes widened. "She died?"

"That's what they said."

"Damn. Okay, I... I'll see you later, Carlos." He picked his duffle bag off the floor and headed for the door.

"Later." His friend repeated, swallowing a mouthful of cereal.

He'd just gotten into the car and was about to turn on the ignition when his cell phone started to ring.

"Yeah. Hey, Sul... Yeah, I know... No, I don't think it's a good idea... Well, you know Bosco, he's not one to show his feelings, but I don't think he's doing too good... Listen, I'm on my way to the hospital now... Yeah, yeah, I'll tell him. See you later, Sul."

Ty exhaled loudly and pulled away from the curb. It wouldn't be easy, but he was determined to help his friend in any way he could. 

***

Faith stepped out of the doctor's office and stared at the medical release form in her hand.

Half an hour ago, the thought of just holding the piece of paper was enough to put a smile on her face, but with Bosco's words still echoing in her head, her good mood was now only a distant memory.

Her chest was tight, and she felt a sadness tugging at her heart that she couldn't quite shake. 

Had he felt the same way when she'd told him to go away?

She hesitantly glanced around, but couldn't see him anywhere. He'd probably either left or was still in the room with his mom.

Seeing him again had awakened feelings she'd kept buried too long, feelings that refused to be ignored, but as much as she wanted to talk to him again and try to explain her reasons, she decided to respect his wishes, at least for now. He was already suffering enough, she didn't need to upset him further. 

Faith knew Bosco well enough to understand that he targeted his own feelings where he could tolerate them. Anger was something he was used to dealing with but in this case, it was also a call for help. A part of him wanted to die, or maybe that part already had. In both cases, he desperately needed someone to lean on.

He wasn't looking for apologies or explanations, he just needed her to understand his pain and help him get through this. The rest would come later. 

Wondering just how much they still had to offer to each other, she made her way outside and hailed a cab to the precinct.

Even the thought of going back to work wasn't appealing anymore. 

***

"You sure you're up to this, man?"

Davis glanced worriedly at Bosco but followed him out of the car.

He'd arrived at the hospital in time to witness him almost get into a fight with an unwary orderly who'd tried to move his mother's body down to the morgue just because he needed to clean the room.

It had taken Ty and two doctors to get him off the man, other than the promise that no one would try to move her again until the guys from the funeral home showed up.

After calling Swersky to tell him that he was probably going to be late for work, he'd managed to calm Bosco down and suggest that he'd take a shower and changed his bloody clothes. He'd also offered to take him to his apartment, but Bosco had insisted that he'd drive him to his place. 

As he watched his friend's trembling hands fumble with the keys, Ty couldn't help but think that this was a really bad idea, but he didn't say a word.

A few moments later, they ducked under the yellow 'crime scene' tape that their fellow officers had put on the doorframe and stepped inside.

The detectives were still gathering evidence and weren't thrilled to let them in, but Davis had assured that it would only be a minute and that nothing would be disturbed. 

Bosco stood in the living room, unable to move, for the longest time as his gaze traveled from his mother's coat still hung on the rack to the couch where they'd had their last conversation. 

Fresh tears started to well up in his eyes and he squeezed them shut, lowering his head and letting out a small cry.

Ty was leaning against the door, struggling with his own demons. His father's death had affected him in a lot of ways, but he wasn't expecting to feel this bad after so many years.

Pushing the memories aside, he took a deep breath and focused his attention back to Bosco. He'd never been to his apartment before and wasn't sure where the shooting had taken place, but his friend already looked on the verge of a breakdown and he thought he should try and get him out of there before he really had one. 

"Maybe you should stay here, you know. I can grab your clothes and take you back to my place."

"No, I'm fi..." his voice trailed off. He wasn't even close to being fine, and Davis had seen enough to know that. "I can do this."

"Okay."

Dragging a hand through his hair, Bosco started to walk toward the bedroom.

With each step, he felt a growing sense of uneasiness settle within him and swallowed hard, but kept moving.

It was only when he found himself staring at the shattered glass and the pool of blood staining the floor that a thought came to mind, something he'd filed away because it just hurt too much to think about it. 

__

She's dead because of me.

Someone had fired a shot through -his- bedroom window. -He- was the one they'd wanted to kill, his mother had just happened to be in the way.

The realization hit him like a punch to the stomach and he collapsed on the edge of the bed, struggling to breathe.

"Bos, you okay?"

His heart was beating so hard he felt suffocated.

__

I need air.

Rising to his feet, he staggered to the window and inhaled deeply, hoping the cool air would help him regain control of his body. He blinked a couple times to clear his vision and gazed blindly at the world outside, as if daring the man who'd just destroyed his life to try again and finish the job.

"Wanna talk about it?"

The dizziness gradually cleared away and he was able to think again.

He shook his head. "There's nothing to talk about, Davis. She's dead. End of story."

"I've been there, remember? I know how you feel, and I'm here to help."

Bosco nodded. In some remote part of his mind, he knew that was true and should bring him comfort, but right now all he could think was that he'd caused his mother's death.

__

'What good am I living if you're dead?'

She'd thought her life wouldn't be worth if he died before her, but what she didn't know was that it went both ways. He'd just have to live with it a little longer. 

"Come on, let's get out of here."

He turned around and met Davis' concerned eyes. His friend was right. He needed to leave.

Walking over to the closet, he grabbed a pair of jeans and a sweater, then moved to the dresser where he took a couple clean shirts and underwear and stuffed everything into a bag.

"I'm ready."

***

"Marks! Get your ass over here. You got a call."

Vernon's lips twisted into a smile and he sat up on the bench where he'd been working out.

"A call?" he asked, faking a surprised tone. "I'm not expecting any calls."

The guard shrugged. "Looks like a family emergency. Now move before I lose my patience with you."

"Alright, alright, I'm coming."

Shuffling over to where the guard was standing, he let the man cuff him.

"Let's go."

He was expecting to hear that his problem had been solved and that Boscorelli was dead, but his brother's words told him a totally different story. His surprise was so genuine that the guard actually believed something horrible had happened to a member of his family.

"He WHAT?" Vernon's hand tightened on the phone.

"I'm sorry, man. I..."

"Son of a bitch! What did I tell you, huh? No mistakes!" He struggled to keep his anger in check. "I trusted you, J. I fucking trusted you!"

"I know, but..." On the other end of the line, Jermaine wiped the sweat off his face while Leonard solemnly shook his head. "Calm down, alright? It's not as bad as it seems."

Vernon's free hand curled into a fist. "Not bad? You fucking ruined everything!" 

"Wait, wait. I'll fix it, okay?"

"You're damn right you're gonna fix it!" He rubbed his temple, trying to come up with some kind of plan. "Now keep your trap shut and listen to me, J. You keep an eye on the cop's house. You see him, you follow him, you understand? And the minute he's alone you blow his fucking head off!" he hissed, looking over his shoulder at the uniformed officer standing behind him.

"You got it, man. We'll take care of it. We will."

"You screw this one I'm gonna rip YOUR head off, J. You hear me?"

"Loud and clear, bro."

"Find him." Vernon's knuckles were white as he hung up the phone.

__

Find him and kill him.

***

Bosco walked out of the apartment, holding the duffel bag in his hand.

He was so lost in thought that he didn't see his brother trade menacingly toward him, his face a mask of anger, until it was too late.

"What the hell were you waiting for?" The young man yelled as his arms sprung forward and his palms roughly shoved him back against the wall. "How long was it gonna take before you decided to call and tell me that my mother's DEAD?"

Bosco dropped the bag, startled, and opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"I had to hear it from the fucking news, Mo! How do you think that made me feel?"

"What do you care?" he whispered darkly as he glared at him.

"What do I ca... Son of a bitch!" Mikey lunged at him, sending them both sprawling to the ground in the middle of the hallway.

Davis, who'd just closed the door to the apartment, turned around at the sound of the man's voice and watched as his fist connected with Bosco's face.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What the hell's going on here? Knock it off, guys!" He said as he tried to separate them. He grabbed Mikey and hauled him up to a standing position. "Calm down, alright? Both of you!"

An awkward silence hung over them for a moment.

Bosco's hand reached for the wall and he slowly stood up, wiping the blood off his lips while Mikey leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

Persuaded that the two brothers weren't going to get into another fight anytime soon, Ty took a step back and followed the rest of the conversation from a safe distance.

"What the hell happened, Maurice?" Mikey angrily asked.

Bosco lowered his gaze as another lump formed in his throat. "Someone fired a shot through my window and she got hit."

"Yeah, I heard that, but why was she here?"

"I... I was at the bar, and offered to give her a ride."

"Then why didn't you take her home?" Mikey's voice rose. His brother's behaviour was uncharacteristically quiet, and he didn't know how to deal with that so he let his anger get the better of him. 

"I did, but the furnace wasn't working so I thought I'd bring her here."

"Great. Just great." The young man raked a hand through his hair as he paced back and forth. "He thought he'd bring her here... Always trying to fix everything, right? A real hero..." He stopped and looked him straight in the eyes. "You got her killed!"

"You whiny little bastard!" Bosco's hand curled around his brother's throat before Davis even had a chance to move. "Don't you ever talk to me like that again!" He warned, his gaze dark. "Ever! You never cared about us, all you cared about were those damn drugs! You caused her nothing but pain so don't you dare blame me for what happened!"

Mikey's eyes went wide with fear and he put his hands up in surrender, glancing at Davis out of the corner of his eye.

"Bos, it's okay." Ty said as he touched his arm. "He didn't mean that." He turned to look at Mikey. "You didn't mean that, right?"

The young man nodded.

"Let him go."

Bosco slowly released the grip on his brother's throat. 

"It's okay, man."

"Whatever." Mikey muttered under his breath as he glared at him one last time and walked away.

TBC...


	6. chapter six

**A Hopeless Wound (6/?)**

***

Author's note: Hey there, missed me? ;) Sorry about the delay, but real life kinda got in the way... Hope I can make up with this chapter. It's been sitting in my desktop since Saturday, but I've been too focused on getting as many details as I could on "Blessed and Bewildered" that I actually forgot about it! Btw, I hate you all, 'cause from what I've heard that was a GREAT one and I have no idea when I'll be able to watch it! *lol* 

Oh, and we found out that Rose doesn't own the bar as I'd originally thought, but let's just pretend she does, okay? It would bee too complicated to change it in this story. 

Anyway, enough of my ramblings, enjoy the chapter and let me know what you think! :) 

***

Chapter six

***

Bosco watched Swersky's lips move, but his brain didn't register any sound.

He'd been sitting in his superior's office for what seemed like an hour, and was beginning to think that Davis' idea of going to the House instead of his place wasn't so smart after all.

Despite taking a shower and putting on clean clothes, he still felt as miserable as before.

A small chuckle escaped his lips as he remembered being in the same room, sitting in the same chair after he'd punched a suspect in front of the FBI. This time it wasn't for something he'd done, although his overwhelming sense of guilt told him he was responsible as if he'd pulled the trigger.

He wasn't sure how he was supposed to react or what the correct emotion was, the only thing he was aware of was a big, black void where his heart used to be. 

Shaking his head, he tried to concentrate on the man's words as once again, his eyes tried to fight back tears.

"I'm serious, Bosco." The Lieutenant continued. "I don't need to remind you that the shot that killed your mother was more than likely meant for you. This man's still out there and probably trying to finish the job so you need to be extremely careful. I don't want to attend another funeral." 

Bosco nodded his head though the man's words did nothing to scare or upset him. 

He wanted to tell him that he didn't care, that he could die for all that mattered, but Swersky seemed genuinely worried and he didn't want him to notice how little he was concerned about his well-being right now.

"You have a place where you can spend the night?"

Another nod.

"Good. Call me as soon as you're settled." 

Moving on auto-pilot, Bosco stood up, grabbed the door handle and left the office.

Swersky let out a breath and stared after him, worry etched on his face. "Sullivan, Davis." he called as he spotted the two officers in the main hall. "Make sure he gets wherever it is that he wants to go." He ordered, pointing to Bosco who was heading out of the building. 

"You got it, boss." Davis replied, his tone firm.

***

"He's coming out." Leonard nudged his brother's arm as he spotted Bosco coming out of the 55th precinct.

"It's about damn time." 

The man's trained eye followed its target as he crossed the street. "Pretty easy shot."

"What, you wanna take him down in front of the whole station?"

Jermaine's lips curved into a grin but he didn't reply.

"Think they'll ever leave him alone?" Leonard asked, directing his finger at the two cops that were trailing after him.

A dangerous glint lit his brother's eyes. "If they don't, there's gonna be two more funerals." he answered darkly as his hand clutched the Remington 700. 

***

The first thing that struck him was the smell.

He'd never noticed it before, but standing in the doorway of his mother's house he realized for the first time just how much the place reminded him of her.

Then emptiness, and a feeling of raw desperation as reality set in and the stress of the day finally started to hit him. 

Shivering, Bosco walked up to the window and watched Sully and Davis as they got inside their squad. Ty glanced at him over the roof of the car and shook his head slightly before sliding into the driver's seat. No doubt he was telling his partner that they shouldn't leave him alone, and Sullivan with his typical roll of the eyes was probably replying that that was exactly what he needed.

Some things never change.

It's not that he didn't appreciate their concern, but he was glad they'd finally left. He was barely holding onto his composure and needed some time to get himself together. This was the first place he'd thought about when they'd asked him where he wanted to go.

Facing away from the window, he looked around the room, almost expecting his mother to come out of the kitchen and tell him that dinner was ready, or to hurry up or he would be late for school. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, but the memories still hovered around him. Memories strong enough to rip him apart. 

__

I can't stay in here.

He took a couple steps forward, then stopped as his eyes fixed on her favourite silk scarf that was draped over a chair. He held it up to his face and inhaled her essence. The faintest whiff of lavender sent him reeling. Another minute in this place and he'd break into pieces.

As soon as he heard the RMP pull out onto the road and away from the house, he headed out the door and sat on the front steps where he called for a cab. 

Ten minutes later, the driver asked him the same question. "Where to?"

He thought about it for a second before giving him the address. It wouldn't help much, but at least he'd find something to drown his pain.

***

Faith sat down on the sofa, her knees pulled up to her chest.

The kids were doing their homework, Fred was taking a shower and she'd just finished washing dishes. 

As the TV screen flashed with the latest report of the events that had led to the brutal murder of the mother of one of the NYPD's finest, her thoughts went back to Bosco. She wondered if he was sitting in a darkened room somewhere, with a bottle in his hand. If he'd skipped dinner, the way he'd probably skipped lunch and breakfast before that, and how many hours of restless sleep he'd be able to get tonight. 

Dealing with grief is a very personal matter. Some people get depressed, and end up showing a lack of interest in life and its many aspects. Bosco, he went to the other extreme.

When he was stressed or had been emotionally hurt, any thought of remaining calm went out the window. The pressure would build up inside him until no amount of running, weight lifting or heavy drinking would do any good. 

He could break all the bones in his hand without feeling it, or go without sleep for days and still feel hyped-up. Then five, six days later, his body would simply give out.

She just hoped to get through him before that happened.

Slowly pushing herself off the couch, Faith made her way out of the living room. "Fred?"

"What is it, honey?" came his voice from the bathroom.

She drew in a breath and wrapped her arms around her stomach. "I... I'm going out for a little while."

He opened the door slightly and looked through the crack. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah. We just ran out of milk."

Fred came out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. "Give me a minute. I'll go get it."

Her body tensed. "No. ...I mean, it's okay. It's a beautiful night, I'd like to walk."

He smiled. "Okay."

Faith leaned closer and kissed him on the cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too."

***

The room was spinning. Furiously and out of control.

The sensation sent a wave of nausea coursing through his body and he grabbed the counter to keep himself from falling flat on his back.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Bosco clenched his eyes shut and waited for the sickness to pass. 

He felt exhausted and light-headed, no doubt courtesy of the bourbon he'd downed. How much he'd actually drank was a mystery to him, but he suspected it was definitely more than his empty stomach could handle.

His head was throbbing, and he was having a hard time focusing on where he was or what had happened. The last image his half-coherent brain could conjure up was entering his mother's bar and locking the door behind him.

Then nothing.

He tried to open his eyes again and blinked a few times to clear away the fog that clouded his vision. 

His brows furrowed in confusion as he looked around and took in his surroundings. The place looked like it'd been ravaged by a storm. Chairs toppled, tables overturned, shot glasses scattered everywhere.

__

What the hell?

Rubbing his face with one hand, he staggered to the door, finding it still locked.

That only left one option.

__

God, I'm sorry, Ma...

His knees threatened to give way and he leaned against the wall, then let his body slowly sag to the floor. 

Images of what had been the worst day of his entire life started to replay themselves in his mind, along with the realization that he'd really lost her forever. He felt a burning pain in his chest, as if all the air had suddenly been forced out of his lungs, and struggled to keep his breathing under control.

__

Sorry... What was he sorry for?

That she was dead, that he'd more than likely caused it, or that he'd not loved her more when she was still alive? How many times had he changed his mind and decided not to stop by and visit her, or had not returned her calls? Too many. And nothing he could do or say now was going to make up for that.

Strong, independent Maurice who'd never had a serious relationship and apparently knew so little about what was important in life, had screwed up again. 

Resting his elbows on his knees, head in his hands, Bosco finally allowed himself to cry.

***

Faith stood outside Rose's bar, her heart thumping loudly in her chest.

Leaving her apartment ten minutes ago, she'd tried to convince herself that this was the right thing to do, that he'd have undoubtedly done the same, and that it takes more than a few harsh words to keep a true friend from helping out.

Yet she couldn't help but wonder if after months of barely acknowledging each other, she still had something to offer to him.

An eerie silence haunted the place, and she frowned as she remembered how loud and full of life it used to be.

The chances that Bosco would be able to keep it were pretty slim in her opinion, at least as long as he kept working the third watch, but she just couldn't picture him giving up a part of his mother's life.

Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward and looked through the glass, but the blackness of the night hindered her sight.

She reached for the front door, but found it locked.

__

Maybe he's not here.

The thought that she'd gone to the wrong place crossed her mind, but she quickly dismissed it. There was no way the detectives would let him go back to his place, and she figured the house in Fresh Meadows held too many memories right now.

The bar was the most logical option, but then again, Bosco rarely reasoned over things. For all she knew, he could be driving aimlessly around the city, or getting thrashed inside one of the many other joints located all over Manhattan.

Still, she found herself trying for the back door. 

She had a powerful gut feeling that this was exactly where he was, so when the knob started to turn under her touch and the door slid open she didn't think twice before stepping inside.

The place was dark, but there was enough moonlight streaming through the windows for her to make out the shape of the counter and an open space in front her.

Swallowing hard, she carefully inched forward until she felt something block her path. A chair, lying on its side on the floor. 

She instinctively picked it and moved it aside, but as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she realized there wasn't a piece of furniture in the whole room that was standing on its feet. Everything had been turned upside down as if...

Fear immediately knotted her stomach. 

"Bosco?"

Forcing down the guilt that had risen at the realization of the true extent of his pain, Faith's eyes frantically darted back and forth, scanning the room for any sign of her friend.

"Bosco?"

A noise drew her attention to the left and she moved towards the front door. "Bos?"

"Get out."

Turning her head, she finally spotted him sitting on the floor, his back against the wall. She stepped forward and came right up to him, where she could see that his hands were shaking, his eyes were closed and his jaw was set too tight.

"Bosco, please look at me."

He opened his eyes and glared at her, but underneath his rage she could see the pain, and it gave her enough courage to kneel down in front of him and cover his hand with her own.

Bosco's gaze softened as he felt Faith's grip on his hand, comfort immediately flowing through him at that silent support. He needed her more than anything, but he also didn't want to show her how truly vulnerable he was, afraid that she'd disappear again as soon as she believed he was alright. 

"Please. Go away."

Faith's heart nearly broke as she watched him trying to be strong in front of her. He was obviously afraid to open up to her, to trust her after the way she'd treated him, but she wouldn't back down, couldn't back down. 

"Bos..."

He looked away. "Please, Faith. It's.. it's a private thing." _And I think I'm going to cry again now._

She gazed down at him. "Don't push me away. I can help..."

"You can't." He stated, his voice sad. "You didn't love her the way I did."

Faith sat down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Let it go, Bos. I'm here for you."

His walls slowly started to crumble. 

"It hurts, Faith. ... I don't want to hurt like this..."

"I'm sorry." Her voice was gentle as she rubbed her back. "I wish I could make it all go away."

Bosco covered his face with his hands. "I just can't do it alone..." he whispered as tears ran down his cheeks. 

"You're not alone." Faith said softly. "It's going to be okay."

Then, as it had happened two years before, she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight as he started to sob.

TBC...


	7. chapter seven

****

A Hopeless Wound (7/?)

***

Author's note: You guys are amazing. I've never received so many reviews in my entire career as a fanfic writer! (A very short one I should say...) *lol* Anyway, here's another chapter for you, hope it lives up to your expectations. Stay with me, there's still a lot more to come!

Malinda, boscoslut, glad to know you're reading! ;)

***

Chapter seven

***

Faith held him until his sobs quieted down, his shoulders stopped shaking and his breathing slowed back to normal.

Although she'd never fully understood Bosco's relationship with his mother, she knew Rose had had a huge impact in his life. In her eyes, they were proof that a mother and her child can be close despite their obvious differences. They'd always said whatever they felt to each other, and yet had remained close over the years. 

Trying to cope with the death of a parent is always tough, but especially when such death is violent and unexpected. Recovering from a wound like that would take a lot of time and all the support he could get, and although it would probably never heal, she was positive that they would get through this. Together. 

She owed it to the woman who'd always thought of her as a daughter and had thanked her numerous times for watching her son's back and being a loyal friend.

Holding him in her arms, she became aware of how much she'd missed him, and how deeply their lives were connected.

Individually they'd grown a lot over the past year, but even all those changes hadn't severed the tie that bond them.

Fate works in mysterious ways, and it doesn't always make sense. It could keep them apart for the longest time, but all it took was a couple minutes and they'd act as if nothing had ever happened. 

Negative actions had caused them to drift away, and now negative actions had brought them back together.

In one single moment and with one simple action, all Faith's doubts had disappeared, and she realized that she needed him just as much as he needed her. Like two musical instruments, they could function alone but did their best when they played together.

Feeling Bosco shift his weight, Faith pulled back slightly and gazed at him.

"You feeling any better?"

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "A little."

Breaking down in front of her didn't make him proud of himself, but letting part of his emotions out and having someone to turn to had actually helped a lot.

He pulled away and leaned back against the wall, running a hand through his hair. "They killed her because of me." He said in a heartless monotone.

Faith looked directly into his eyes. "No, Bos. What happened last night wasn't your fault. You're not responsible in any way."

Bosco lowered his gaze. "Like hell I'm not."

She reached out and touched his cheek, her fingers brushing over the side of his face in an intimate gesture that surprised even herself. "We'll find the shooter. And I promise he's gonna pay."

He raised his head and stared at her. "We?"

Faith smiled. "I was cleared for duty today. Think I'll be riding a desk for a while, but I'm officially back."

Bosco nodded. "That's good. Listen, I... I'm sorry, Faith. For everything."

"Me too."

"I didn't mean for you to get hurt. I..."

She waved him off. "Not now. There'll be plenty of time later."

She got up and held out one hand to help him stand. "Do you still have that room in the back?"

Bosco's fingers curled around hers and he rose to his feet. "Yeah."

"Come on. Let's get you to bed."

He stiffened. "I can get myself to bed."

"I know you can. I'll just feel better helping you."

He was too numb to argue as she led him to a small room where Rose used to crash when it was too late to get back home.

"I trashed the place..." he admitted, looking around at the mess he'd caused.

"It's okay, Bos. We'll fix it tomorrow."

He shook his head sadly. "I'll never be able to fix this." 

Faith looked at him, a puzzled expression on her face. She sensed that his words had a deeper meaning, but decided not to ask him about it.

"Here. Lie down." She pointed to the bed and started to help him out of his jacket.

"I can do it."

"Sure. I'll be right back. I think I've got a couple aspirins in my purse."

When she came back a moment later, she found him sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at a necklace that was dangling from his hand.

"She wanted to be a grandmother."

Faith stilled, unsure about how to reply.

"The night of that fire at the grocery store, she asked me when I was gonna give her a grandchild."

A small smile curved her lips. "I'm sure she'd have loved to spoil a grandchild, especially a granddaughter."

Her hand touched his shoulder. "Take these." She said softly as she handed him a glass of water and two pills.

Bosco carefully placed the necklace back into his jeans pocket and downed the pills. 

"Think you'll be alright for a couple hours? I told Fred I was gonna get some milk, and that was about an hour ago." She hated to leave him like that, but she had no choice. 

"Yeah." He whispered though he really didn't want her to leave. 

"I'll be back tomorrow, okay?"

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak as fresh tears stung his eyes and threatened to spill. 

Faith swallowed hard and took a step backward. "Bos?"

"Yeah."

"You might want to lock the back door."

"I will." He croaked out. The tears were already running down his cheeks.

He listened as she made her way outside, then lie down on top of the covers and closed his eyes.

***

Swersky sat at his desk, his fingers nervously tapping on the wooden surface of the table.

His clock read 11:41, meaning his shift was already over, but once again he'd found himself unable to leave the place.

Boscorelli was supposed to call to let him know where he would be spending the night, but he still hadn't heard from him. That didn't necessarily mean something had happened to him, although his 30 years of experience on the job told him that wasn't a good sign either. 

Sighing, he got up, grabbed his coat and headed for the front desk.

"Frank, I'm going home," he said, getting the Sergeant's attention. "But do me a favour. If you hear from Boscorelli, give me a call. Doesn't matter the time."

"Okay, Lieu. Have a good night."

"Night."

***

"Look out, look out, she's leaving."

Leonard and Jermaine ducked in their seats as Faith came out of the bar and walked past them.They'd been parked across the street for close to two hours, patiently waiting for the right time to strike. 

Leonard followed her through the rearview mirror until she rounded the corner and disappeared into the night, then took one last sip of his beer and gave his brother the 'okay' sign. 

Jermaine grabbed his switchblade from the dashboard and got out of the car.

He'd decided to leave the Remington at home. A rifle was good for a long-distance shot, but for a man-to-man fight the knife was the best weapon.

Well, this time it would actually be a two-against-one fight, he thought as he smiled to himself. And they'd teach Boscorelli a lesson he'd never forget.

They looked up and down the street to see if there was anyone around and then walked up to the bar. Having watched Faith's every move since she'd first showed up, they already knew the front door was locked and headed straight for the back.

"You ready?"

Leonard smiled. "Lead the way."

The door didn't make any sound when they pulled it open, allowing them to step inside. The two brothers stood still for a moment, listening for any sound that would lead them to where the man was, but everything was quiet.

Jermaine's eyes scanned the darkened room, and he pointed to the right. Leonard nodded and they carefully inched forward, their footsteps quietly padding across the pavement.

"You sure he's inside?" The younger brother whispered.

"Of course he's inside. We've watched the damn place all night! Now shut the hell up and keep going."

"Alright! Calm down, man, I was just saying..." his voice trailed off when he tripped over one of the stools and fell to the ground with a loud thump.

"Fuck!" Jermaine angrily said. "You stupid son of a bitch!"

"I'm sorry, man. I swear I didn't see it!" Leonard apologized as he rose to his feet. "You think he heard us?"

Jermaine wanted to tell him that Boscorelli'd had to be deaf not to have heard it, instead he put a finger to his lips and motioned for him to stand between the back door and the restrooms while he moved to hide behind the counter.

***

Bosco heard the noise and jerked instantly awake.

He lifted his head off the pillow and waited, figuring it was Faith who'd forgot something on her way home.

The sudden movement caused his throbbing headache to resurface once again and he swallowed to shake off the nausea that was rapidly building in the pit of his stomach.

A full minute passed, and he started to wonder if he'd just imagined it.

Questioning his sanity, and remembering Faith's advice to lock the back door, he decided to get up anyway.

His legs felt heavy as he dragged himself out of the room, his body swaying slightly under the strain.

"Faith?" he tentatively called, his voice hoarse.

No answer.

__

Great. I'm hearing things now. I'm really losing it.

Reaching for the light switch near the counter, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. A cold chill ran down the back of his neck and he turned around in time to see someone lunging after him.

His brain immediately registered the danger and adrenaline kicked in, mixed with an unexpected surge of rage. Despite his weakened conditions, he ducked down and punched his assailant in the gut.

The action took Jermaine by surprise, and he didn't have time to use his knife. The weapon dropped out of his hand, landing on the floor a few feet from them. The man doubled over in pain but was fast to recover and went after him again, this time hitting him in the stomach.

The blow forced all the air out of Bosco's lungs and he groaned at the discomfort as he went down hard.

Jermaine kicked him in the ribs and watched his face contort in pain, an evil smile plastered on his lips.

Bosco's feet lashed upward and connected with his attacker's groin, then he rolled sideways, knocking the man's legs from underneath him. He heard him mutter a curse and attempted to pull himself into a standing position, but suddenly another man appeared out of nowhere, tackling him and slamming his fist against his face. Bosco grunted, his head whipping back as the blow caught him on the chin. 

Leonard took advantage of his moment of distraction and landed a few more punches, forcing him to his knees.

He was seeing double, unable to right himself, and his head hurt so bad he thought it was going to explode, but he glared at the man defiantly and tried to stand up again, blinking to clear away the haze that was closing in around him.

Seeing his opponent had his back to him, Jermaine quickly got up and hit him on the side of his neck. 

Everything became blurry, and Bosco's body went limp on the ground.

Leonard breathed a sigh of relief and reached for the counter for support as he caught his breath.

"Damn. The son of a bitch put up one hell of a fight."

"Serves him right." Jermaine muttered as he stood over him.

"Where's the knife?"

Wiping the sweat off his face, the older brother looked around, scanning the room. "Right there on your left. Under the chair."

Leonard crouched down and picked the switchblade. "Now what?"

Jermaine was lost in thoughts, his dark eyes fixed on Bosco's still form.

"What's wrong, man? You know we have to use it, right? Or Vernon'll have our asses."

Leonard had never killed a man before and wasn't really happy about it, but Vernon's reaction scared him even more, and he knew they had no chance but to follow his orders.

"Yeah. But that doesn't mean we can't have a little fun before killing him."

A smile spread across the young man's face as he watched the roll of duct tape in his brother's hand. "Great idea, bro."

Jermaine smiled back. "Come on. We gotta move."

TBC...


	8. Chapter eight

****

A Hopeless Wound (8/?)

***

A/N: Okay, I realize it was cruel to leave you hanging like that... I'm sorry, but my mind's been focused elsewhere for the last couple weeks (some of you might guess why ;) ). Don't worry though, I'm NOT going to kill Bosco, I would never do that to him (well, at least in this fic *lol*)

Oh, and of course I haven't seen the last couple episodes so my characters will act differently than they did on the show. Enjoy, and keep the amazing feedback coming!

***

Chapter eight

***

Faith removed the top half of the coffee machine and took out the soggy brown filter, tossing it into the trashcan.

It was still early, but she usually couldn't sleep for more than a few hours per night, and all those months of basically doing nothing had made her eager to get out of bed every morning.

After fixing the kids' lunches and getting the coffee going, she leaned back against the kitchen counter and sighed.

She had the feeling that it was going to be a bad day. She tried to blame it on the headache she'd woken up with but even now, an hour later, it was still there, along with a weird sense of foreboding and a queasiness in the pit of her stomach she only got when she knew something had gone wrong.

With Bosco still on her mind, she pushed herself away from the counter and hoped that the events of the day would prove her wrong.

As soon as Fred left for work, she would go back to Rose's bar to check on him. 

Thankfully, her husband hadn't questioned her about being late last night, but knowing he wouldn't understand her need to be there for Bosco, she fully intended to keep her visits a secret, at least for now.

"So, how'd you sleep?" Fred's voice startled her.

"What?"

"I was just wondering if you felt nervous at all. Today's your big day, right?" he said, a faint smile touching his lips.

Faith stared at him for a moment, wondering what exactly he was referring to. 

He came closer and took her hand in his. "It worries me, you know. You going back to work. Being a cop again."

Work. _Damn._ She'd almost forgot about the medical clearance and the meeting with Swersky. She would be back on duty in just a couple hours.

"I've never stopped being a cop, Fred."

"I know. But you're also my wife. And I love you."

Her hands came up to frame his face. "Then you know I need to do this. I can't imagine doing anything else." She gave him a light kiss on the lips. "Be patient, okay?"

Fred nodded.

Faith rested her chin on his shoulder. "Just hold me, will ya?"

He pushed a strand of loose hair behind her ear, then slid his arms around her waist and pulled her to him.

"Be careful, okay?"

"I will."

***

When he came back to the conscious world, Bosco immediately wished he'd hadn't.

He couldn't move his arms, which he realized were tied above his head, every breath was an effort and his head was throbbing incessantly. His feet, equally bound, barely touched the ground, and he could feel the plastic tape on his mouth, preventing him from getting enough air in his lungs.

He tried to move, glancing around as much as his uncomfortable position would allow. The room, bathed in near darkness, looked cold and disheveled. He could make out a table and a couple chairs on his right, as well as what appeared to be a cot and a small window almost totally obscured by thick drapes.

__

Where am I?

His thoughts were muddled as he strained to recall what had happened, the images assaulting his brain so powerful he found himself unable to stop them.

__

The bar. Chairs toppled. Bottles littering the floor. Blackness all around him. Shards of glass. Blood. Ma!

He pulled hard on the bindings as his last moments of consciousness came flooding back.

Someone had attacked him. Two men. He was so hazy he couldn't remember the bastards' faces, but he remembered the toes of their boots as they kicked him in the ribs.

Who they were and what they wanted was lost to him, but he feared he was going to find it out real soon.

***

Faith's footsteps were quick, more of a run than a walk.

She'd donned jeans and a white button-down shirt, stuck her strawberry-blond hair into a ponytail, then left her apartment and headed out to catch the subway.

After a ten-minute ride, she got off the train and hefted her bag onto her shoulder, trying to get rid of the nervousness that was growing inside her.

Finally arriving at the bar, she pushed through the wooden door into the dimly lit lounge area.

"Hey. How are you feeling?" She said as she spotted who she assumed was Bosco crouched down near one of the tables.

"What?" The man rose to his feet and turned around to face her.

Faith's eyes widened. "Mikey?"

She hadn't seen him in two years, since that night they'd arrested him for possession. He'd lost weight, his cheeks were more sunken than usual, his eyes haunted. He looked a lot older than he actually was.

"Faith? Is that you?" He put the bottle he'd picked up from the floor on the counter and took a step forward.

"Yeah. Where's your brother?"

"I was gonna ask you the same thing."

The hairs prickled up on the back of her neck. "What? You mean he's not here?"

Mikey shook his head. "I just came and found the place trashed. What the hell happened?"

Faith lowered her gaze. "I guess he needed to let his anger out." She replied, her voice sad. "I was here last night, and he was pretty upset. I suggested he'd use the bed in the back room and promised I'd be back in the morning."

Her words struck him hard, awakening feelings of guilt and grief he could hardly control. He dragged his palm back and forth across his forehead and moved behind the counter.

"You guys have any idea who killed my mother?"

Faith swallowed. "We're working on it."

"Think it was someone who's going after Maurice?"

"That's a possibility, yeah. But it's too soon to tell."

She watched him pour himself a shot and toss it down. "How are you holding up, Mikey?"

He didn't reply, instead seemed to shrink into himself, his eyes glazed as though he was listening to some inner voice.

"I lost control." He finally said, forcing the words out before he could swallow them back.

"What you mean?"

  
Mikey stared into his empty glass. "I blamed him for Ma's death. Told him he was the one who got her killed. I... I know it wasn't his fault, but I was angry..."

Faith snatched the bottle away from his shaking hands before he could pour himself another drink. "You still doing drugs?"

"I'm almost clean. I've been off the junk for months. Just a little weed, that's all."

She nodded. "I'm sorry for your loss. Rose was a great woman."

Mikey hung his head and stared down at his feet as he blinked back tears. As he kicked at some shards of glass, he caught a glint of something on the floor a few feet from him and knelt down to see what it was.

"What is that?" Faith asked as she watched his face drain of what little color was left in it.

"My mother's necklace." He whispered as he looked at the small object in his hand.

"Oh my god..."

"What?"

"Bosco... he had it. I saw him put it in his jeans pocket."

They shared a worried look as they both jumped to the same conclusion.

"He'd never leave it here." Faith started. "Unless..."

"... Unless something happened to him."

***

Bosco twisted his body, straining against the ties that held his hands captive. The rope dug painfully into his wrists, and he felt a fresh trickle of moisture running down his arms. Blood.

The wall anchor remained fixed, while his shoulders ached and the muscles in his ribcage began to protest. His fingers, he barely felt at all.

Everything was quiet around him. Whoever had taken him apparently had no intention to rush things and had yet to show up. Were these the same people who'd killed his mother?

Just thinking about her, the pain started again. Nowhere he could actually locate it but real, eating him up inside, and more than he could bear.

Tilting his head up toward the metal anchor, he shifted his bound feet, trying to find some kind of leverage against the wall, but his efforts gave no result. He let out a frustrated cry, but the duct tape smothered the sound, forcing it back into his lungs.

In the silence of the room, a black spider slowly inched its way along the dirty pavement. 

As he watched the small animal get closer, alone with his thoughts, Bosco felt an overwhelming need to cry.

***

"Davis, you got a second?" Swersky called as he saw the young man walk through the front doors of the precinct.

"Yes, sir." He quickly jogged up the stairs and approached him. "What's up?"

"I was wondering if you'd heard from Bosco." The Lieutenant spoke in a hushed voice so no one else could hear.

Ty shook his head. "No, I haven't. I wanted to swing by his mother's place to see how he was doing, but my car died and..." he looked at his watch "... I barely made it here."

"That's where you and Sully dropped him last night, right?"

"Yeah." There was a moment of silence. "What's wrong, Lieu?"

"I don't know." He sighed. "We haven't heard from him since he left the station. I was just trying to figure out where to go from there."

Davis nodded but didn't reply, a sense of dread rising within him as his superior's words sunk in. "You want us to drive up there and check on him?" He finally asked, hoping his boss' answer would be a yes.

Swersky let out a breath. "Yeah. I'd like that."

"Any word from the detectives?"

He put his hands on his hips. "We got a match on the bullet that killed Mrs. Boscorelli. Remington 700."

"Whoa." Davis frowned as he pictured the weapon in his mind.

"I've got a meeting in one hour." The Lieutenant continued. "But it doesn't look good. And the rifle suggests we may be dealing with a sharpshooter. Listen, I want you to..."

He was interrupted by Faith's voice and turned around to see her walking up to him, followed by a young man he didn't recognize.

"Lieu, I need to talk to you. It's important."

"Yokas." He nodded his head as he acknowledged her.

"Faith?" Surprise spread across Ty's face.

"Hey." She gave him a small smile then pointed to Mikey. "Sir, this is Michael Boscorelli."

Swersky shook the young man's hand and looked at Faith's concerned face. "My office."

"Boss, can I tag along?" Davis asked, sensing that the reason that had brought his friend and Bosco's brother together wasn't a good one.

"Yeah."

***

"I think Bosco's in trouble." Faith said as soon as they all gathered in the Lieutenant's office.

Swersky folded his arms across his chest. "What do you mean?" He asked as Ty listened intently and Mikey stared down at his feet, hands stuffed into his jeans pocket.

"I was at the bar, his mother's bar. Mikey was there too, and we found..."

"Wait a minute." he held one hand out to stop her. "I thought he was at his mother's house."

"What, in Queens?"

The older man turned to Davis, as did Faith, a confused expression on their faces.

Ty swallowed hard. "I... that's where we left him, Sir. Went inside, asked if there was anything we could do and then figured he needed some time alone."

Swersky shook his head. "I should've known he wouldn't stay in the same place all night. So we have no idea where he went after that?"

"That's not correct, Sir." Faith replied, getting the man's full attention. "I went to the bar last night, and found him there. We talked for a while, and then I told him I'd be back in the morning."

The Lieutenant ran a hand through his hair. "I still don't get it. He left Mrs. Boscorelli's home and went to the bar. Why do you think he's in trouble?"

"When I came back this morning," Faith went on, "Michael was already there, but there was no sign of Bosco." She nodded to Mikey who pulled the necklace out of his pocket and showed it to Swersky. "We found this on the floor."

"It belonged to my mother." Bosco's brother explained, a hint of tremor in his voice. Standing there, surrounded by cops, was making him nervous, not to mention the fact that his brother was apparently missing. "Maurice... he would've never left it there."

Ty nodded in agreement, his eyes fixed on the small pendant. "He's right, Lieu."

A hundred questions were running through Swersky's mind as he processed the information. "Okay." He paused for a moment. "Faith, do you remember what time you left the bar?"

"Around midnight, I think."

"So that leaves, what? Seven, eight hours that we can't account for."

"Eight." she stated. 

"That's a lot of time." The Lieutenant reasoned.

Davis shook his head. "A lot of things can happen in eight hours."

"Something's wrong, Lieu. I can feel it." Faith said, watching Mikey lean against the wall, nervously fidgeting with the necklace in his hands.

Swersky sat down at his desk. "All right, give me a minute. Let's see what we can do."

TBC...


	9. chapter nine

**A Hopeless Wound (9/?)**

***

A/N: I know, I know I'm late, and I'm terribly sorry about that. I've been away for a week and didn't have time to write or post another chapter. Please forgive me... ;) I promise I'll do my best to figure out how to end this story and go back to posting one chapter per week.

This said, hope you guys are still following, and thanks again for the feedback. 

Enjoy! :) 

***

Chapter nine

***

Leonard sat in one of the plastic chairs in the visitors' room, his left leg bouncing up and down in a nervous gesture.

He exhaled loudly, then rested his forearms on the table and lowered his head as he waited for the guard to escort his brother.

Taking the cop had been a good idea, he reasoned. Then why had Jermaine decided to stay in the car and sent him to talk to Vernon?

He shrugged. They'd done their job, there was nothing to worry about.

The house where they'd left him was isolated enough not to draw any attention, the ropes were tight and the tape on his mouth would prevent him from making any sound and let his presence known.

Yeah, definitely a good job.

The sound of the door opening pulled him away from his thoughts and he looked up. Vernon nodded at him, his face breaking into a wide grin.

Even in prison, the man looked perfectly at ease. He had the same old arrogant smile, the I-take-no-crap attitude, and despite the uniformed officer at his side and the cuffs on his wrists, he acted like he ruled the place.

Leonard sighed. _I'll never be like him_. "Hey, how're you doing?" He asked as he stood up.

"Len! What's up, little bro?"

Their hands locked in one of those gang greetings as the guard eyed them suspiciously for a moment before backing up and leaving them alone.

"How're they treating you, Vern?"

"Me?" He laughed, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table. "I'm alright. This place ain't that bad if you know the right people. But I'm not here to talk about me."

A smile lit Leonard's face. He glanced around for a moment to make sure no one was listening and leaned forward. "We got him."

"What you mean you got him? He's dead, right?"

"Better than that."

Vernon's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"We kidnapped him. He's inside the Hole." He added, referring to the place where the three brothers used to hang out and score.

"You what?"

The younger man's smile broadened. "We followed him to a bar last night, waited as you'd said, and then knocked him out."

"A bar?" He hissed through tight lips. "Christ! You have any idea how stupid that was?"

"It's okay, man." Leonard replied uncomfortably, shifting his eyes off him as a bead of sweat trickled down his temple. "The place was closed, he was the only one inside. You know, like he owned the joint or something. J thought we could have some fun before killing him."

"Oh, is that right? J thought it was a good idea!" Vernon slammed his fists down on the table in frustration, nailing him with a murderous look. "Where the hell is he, huh? What, the little son of a bitch was afraid and sent you instead?"

"He uh... he's waiting outside."

Vernon leaned back into his seat. "I can't believe you screwed up TWICE! All you got to do was kill him! Is it so fucking difficult to kill a man?"

Leonard's leg started to bounce again under the table as he shook his head in protest. "He put you in jail, bro. He needs to pay! We thought you'd be happy with it."

"Well, I'm NOT! What if he gets free, huh? What if he recognizes you?"

"Don't worry, man. He's not going anywhere." He assured him. "And I don't think he's seen our faces. We just left him in the Hole while he was unconscious."

Vernon ran his hands over his face. "This can be dangerous, Len. He's a cop, for chrissake! I just wanted him out of the game, that's all. Damn! Why don't you two ever listen?"

"Relax, Vern. We got everything under control."

"I still don't like it. They gave me a life sentence, man. If they find out about this I get the death penalty!"

"Don't worry, alright?" Leonard said with confidence as he rose to his feet. Their time was up.

Vernon grabbed his brother's arm. "I'll call you tomorrow. And he'd better be dead, you hear me?"

He nodded his understanding. "See ya, bro."

"Yeah." He waved his cuffed hands in dismissal as the guard came to bring him back to his cell.

***

Bosco forced his eyes open and glanced hesitantly around the darkened room.

He couldn't remember passing out and didn't know how long he'd been asleep, but apparently nothing had changed.

At least he didn't feel much pain anymore. His hands had gone numb hours ago, his feet shortly thereafter, though he still had a dull ache in his shoulder blades from the awkward position.

Mentally, he was more clearheaded and alert, despite having completely lost track of time.

He tried to listen for sounds, but couldn't hear anything. No cars, no people talking, or even dogs barking. Was he in some kind of basement underground? He had to be. Presumably a couple levels down. 

He found it weird that no one had bothered to check on him but then again, he had no idea who he was dealing with. For all he knew, they might have planned to let him die in this hellhole without food or water.

Maybe they'd been caught, he reasoned, and wouldn't tell the police where he was. Or maybe they'd already been killed, and his friends would never be able to find him. 

He shook his head. It was hard to imagine someone finding you when you have no idea where you are.

The thought sent a surge of rage flow through him and he jerked his arms painfully against the ropes. 

Bosco knew he could die, but before he did, he wanted to look his mother's killer in the eyes and make sure to bring the bastard down to hell with him.

He yanked on the bindings again. Felt the concrete hold strong while his own flesh tore and his wrists started to bleed. It was amazing how much effort you could put into something with basically no result. 

Suddenly an image popped up in his head. Faith taking his hand, speaking to him in her soft but convincing tone. Faith looking at him, confidence in her eyes as she told him that they'd find the men responsible for this.

The scene replayed itself in his mind, and he wished he was still in the middle of that perfect moment with her. 

***

"Alright, everybody calm down." Swersky ordered from the podium in the roll call room. 

The news of the incident at Boscorelli's apartment and his consequent disappearance had been greeted with dismay. Incredulous officers stared at each other, voicing their doubts, wondering if the uniform they wore was enough to keep them safe, and fearing the fate of their friend.

"I said knock it off!" He repeated, his voice firm. The meeting room became suddenly still. "This is all we have so far. I know it isn't much, so if you hear or see something, please call it in." He paused and looked around, scanning the rows of familiar faces. "I already have one officer missing. Don't want to add a couple more names to the list."

They all nodded their approval as the uncomfortable silence still hovered around them. 

"I'm gonna ask the officers whose names I've called to stay back. The rest of you, eyes and ears open out there."

The men and women of the Third Watch immediately resumed their talking as they slowly walked out, concern clearly written across their faces. When the last uniform had left, the Lieutenant closed the door and stared at the six people still seated in front of him.

"Okay, here's what we're gonna do. First, I'm gonna need a list of places where he might have gone to rule out the possibility that he's left voluntarily." He turned to look at Faith. "Yokas. You and Mr. Boscorelli can work on that."

"Yes, sir." She agreed. 

Mikey, who'd never been called 'Mister' before, stared back at him for a moment to make sure the older man was really addressing him and then gave him a slight nod.

"The detectives are heading down to the bar." Swersky continued. "As soon as you're done with that, you two can join them. You're both familiar with the place so it'll be easier for you to notice any differences."

Faith sighed. Knowing the shape the bar was in was going to draw in a lot of questions, she immediately reached for her notebook and started to jot down all the addresses she could think about. The sooner they finished here, the faster they could leave the precinct and assist the detectives in their search for clues.

The Lieutenant took a deep breath and moved to his right. "Sullivan, Davis. You're going to follow-up on that list of locations. Ask around, see if anyone has seen him. Neighbours, clerks, anyone." 

"Will do." Sully said, shifting uneasily in his chair. 

The two men shared a sad look, both aware that the search, although necessary, was more likely to turn into a big fiasco.

"We could check the hospital. See if he got back there." Davis suggested.

"Sure." His partner replied.

"I don't think this is gonna work." A voice rose from the back.

There was a moment of silence as all the heads drifted in the direction of the person that had just spoken.

"What?" Cruz asked, an annoyed expression on her face.

Faith glared at her, her blue eyes sparkling with anger. "What'd you say?"

"I said, this is not the right way to go. There's other things we should be doing." 

"True." Swersky nodded. "That's why I need you and Monroe to stay here and look over past cases." 

Cruz shot him an incredulous look. "Are you kidding me?"

"Do I look like I'm having fun, Sergeant?"

Faith couldn't hide the smirk on her face.

"Start looking over possible arrests that might have sought revenge against Boscorelli."

"But..." she tried to protest.

"Now."

"We're on it, Lieu." Monroe nodded as she got up.

"Good. Let's go, people."

***

In the quietness of the room, Bosco finally heard a noise. 

A creak in the floorboards. Then another. Footsteps.

His whole body tensed as he watched the wooden door swing open and light stream in. Seconds later, two men entered the room.

"Well, well, well, look who's awake!"

His eyes narrowed and he glared coldly at them.

"So, how'd you like the place?" Jermaine asked, a wicked grin plastered on his face.

Bosco twisted his body, desperately trying to free himself from the ropes. He wanted so bad to hurt them. Needed to inflict violence and pain to make up for the hurt he was experiencing. Angry words formed on his lips, but the tape chocked them off, leaving him with only grunts and groans.

"What, you wanna say something, Boscorelli?" The man pulled a chain and a light bulb suddenly illuminated the place.

The two brothers moved closer, allowing him to take a better look at them.

They were both black, probably in their twenties, wearing baggy jeans and oversized sweaters. The guy on his right, who he assumed was the older of the two, was over six foot tall and had a red bandana over his bald head. The second one, a couple inches shorter, was wringing his hands nervously and avoiding eye contact.

His body language told Bosco that the young man had never found himself in a situation like this. He was the weakest link, the one he should go after. 

"I've been told you've got a little temper problem, don't you, little man?"

There was something familiar in their features. He knew he should remember why, but the answer escaped him right now.

Leonard walked past him and over to the table, sitting down so he could see both Jermaine and their prisoner. He needed a hit, and he needed it bad. The whole situation was making him extremely nervous, and he desperately craved for something to relax his nerves and help him forget what they were about to do.

Fantasizing about getting revenge was one thing, but after seeing the man tied to a metal anchor on the wall, his bruised face, he'd started to think that he really didn't like the idea of killing another human being.

__

Suck it up, Len. Be a man. He told himself as his hands expertly moved on the table to prepare his fix.

Unaware of his brother's inner turmoil, Jermaine kept his eyes trained on Bosco.

He was a lot like Vernon, arrogant and self-absorbed, and his military training had only served to fuel the anger of a kid grown up too soon in the projects.

Lips still curved upward, he stepped in front of him and without even thinking yanked the tape off his mouth. 

Despite the sudden pain that the action caused him, Bosco immediately felt relieved. After drawing in a deep breath and letting his lungs fill with the much-needed air, he focused his gaze back on his captor. He couldn't see the second guy, but decided he wasn't dangerous for now.

"You son of a bitch, I'm gonna kill you! You hear me, You're a DEAD man!" His voice was surprisingly strong, even defiant as he pulled on the restraints.

Jermaine shook his head. "No, I think you got that turned around, cop. YOU're gonna be dead soon." He sneered, punching him in the stomach. 

Leonard, startled by Bosco's angry voice, dropped the spoon full of coke on the table and helplessly watched the white powder scatter around the plastic surface. He let out a frustrated cry and turned toward his brother.

"Fuck! That was good stuff, man! Why'd you do that?"

"Chill out, bro. There's plenty of it. As soon as we're done with the cop here, we're gonna fix us some."

Leonard wasn't sure he could do the job without a little help, but swallowed hard and nodded. _You can do it, Len. You can do it._

"Now, where was I?" Jermaine brought two fingers to his temple to emphasize the effort of thinking. "Oh, yeah. Here." He finished as he hit his prisoner again.

"Who the hell are you?" Bosco asked between gasps. He could see the butt of a gun sticking up from the waistband of his jeans.

"Should we tell, him, Len? What do you thnk?"

The younger man shrugged, his eyes still fixed on the empty spoon.

"You must excuse my little brother over there. He's not in the talking mood today."

Bosco rolled his eyes. He was growing angrier by the minute, and his mind kept taunting him with images of his mother's pale face as she lay on the ground, blood soaking her white blouse. These were the men responsible for it, and he swore they were gonna pay.

"I'm gonna kill you, morons..."

Jermaine grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, adding more pressure to his already strained wrists. "Who'd you call a moron, asshole?"

"You... jag-off." 

He heard it all: the threats, the nasty words, but none of it registered, let alone mattered.

"Vernon was right. You are one crazy son of a bitch."

Bosco's eyes widened as he heard the familiar name. "Vernon... Vernon Marks?" 

"That's right. He's my brother, man. And he's in jail because of you!"

He stared at the other man for a moment, unable to reply. Vernon Marks was the man behind all this. It was too hard to conceive of, but shockingly true.

"That night at your place, it was supposed to be you." Jermaine continued as he let go of him and took a step backward. "But your old lady got in the way."

Bosco's heart started to beat faster.

"Saw it on the news. She looked pretty nice."

"Don't you talk about my mother again!" He screamed, fighting insanely against his bonds, twisted his body furiously, careless of the damage he was inflicting to himself as they ripped into his already bruised skin. Anger was now his only emotion. "Untie me, you bastard! Untie me and I'll show you what I can do to you! You wanna kill me that's fine, I don't care, but you're going down with me!"

For a moment as he furiously twisted his body he could swear he'd felt the anchor move a little, but his blurred mind couldn't tell if it was true or just a product of his imagination.

Leonard saw him struggle against the ropes and hung his head down. This wasn't right.

"J?"

"What?"

"I can't do this..."

"That's bullshit, Len!" Jermaine said, walking up to him. "Come on. We're in this together, bro." He put one arm around his shoulder. "Tell you what, we rough him up a little bit first, alright? Then you can have your little fix."

Leonard nodded unconvincingly and turned to look at Bosco.

"You can do it, Len."

"Yeah."

Jermaine followed his gaze. "So what do you say, cop? Ready to learn your lesson?"

TBC...


	10. chapter ten

****

A Hopeless Wound (10/?)

***

A/N: Okay guys, here's another one. Sadly, I got this new, crazy shift at work and it looks like April's gonna be a busy month for me so please be patient, I'm not sure I'll be able to write as much as I'd like to. :(

For anyone who thought Vernon Marks' name sounded familiar but couldn't remember why, we met him in season four, in the two parts of "Crime and Punishment" (the episodes with little Miguel). I don't owe him, just his two stupid brothers... *lol* Oh, and I'm NOT going to kill Bosco. That's not gonna happen (not in this fic anyway ;) ). You can relax now... 

Enjoy! 

***

Chapter ten

***

Faith dragged a hand through her hair as she tiredly walked up the stairs towards the locker room. The shift was over, but they hadn't found anything. No suspects, no leads, no Bosco.

Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined her first day back to be like this.

The bar had been dusted for fingerprints, but they wouldn't know if there were any matches until at least the next day. The place had looked no worse than the last time she'd seen it, and neither she nor Mikey had been able to spot anything unusual.

Sully and Davis had had no luck either. It looked like Bosco had vanished into thin air. The only hope she'd left was that Cruz and Monroe had come up with something.

She'd just reached the top of the stairs when she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Faith. How're you doing?" Sully asked, following her over to the room.

She sighed. If she heard the question one more time she knew she would break down. "I'm alright. Holding up pretty well considering..."

He stared intently at her. "I don't think so."

Faith bit on her bottom lip. "Let's just pretend I'm fine, okay?"

"Sure. I'm sorry."

"No, I just... It's been a long day."

"I know." He replied, a sad look on his face.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, each lost in his own thoughts.

"I shouldn't have left him alone." She whispered after a moment, sitting on the bench in front of her locker, more to herself than to him.

Sully shook his head. "You can play the 'if only' game forever, Faith. But it won't do any good. All we gotta do right now is focus on finding him."

She took a deep breath and nodded in agreement. He was right. She needed to find him. 

Seconds later, she heard footsteps approaching and looked up to see Sasha Monroe. Her usual cheerful demeanor was gone, replaced by a grim look that couldn't carry good news.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Faith closed her eyes, summoning up the courage to ask her the question that had been bothering her all night. "You guys find anything?"

Monroe shook her head as she spun the combination on her locker. "We went over hundreds of files, ran down and checked almost everyone he's ever put in jail or testified against, but nothing jumped out. The way I see it, every criminal he's arrested could be a possible suspect."

Faith chuckled. "Yeah. That's Bosco." 

"Monroe, I'm gonna need you at 7:00 tomorrow." Both women stopped talking as Cruz strolled in and moved to her own locker, clicking it open with a swift twist of the hand. "Don't be late. We still got to check those files upstairs." 

"I'll be there." Sasha nodded.

Faith stared at the Sergeant, a bewildered expression on her face, wondering exactly what had happened during all those months she'd been away and why she suddenly seemed to care this much about Bosco. 

She swallowed, forcing down her hatred for the woman who'd caused her nothing but pain, and concentrated on spinning the lock.

Cruz, equally ignoring her, grabbed her purse and jacket and headed out of the room.

"What the hell was that all about?" Sully asked as he unbuttoned his shirt.

"We volunteered to pull a double. Thought Bosco could use some extra help." She paused and looked down on the floor. "...And I gotta feel like I'm doing something."

"A double?" Sully repeated as he considered the option. "What do you think, Davis?"

Ty poked his head out of his locker. "Sure. I'll tell Lieu."

"Count me in." Faith said firmly.

"No, Faith. We got it. It's you're first day back, you should take it easy." The older man replied. "Go home. I promise I'll call if we find anything."

She opened her mouth to protest but stopped and reluctantly nodded her head, despite knowing full well that she wouldn't get any sleep that night. "Okay. I'll see you guys tomorrow." 

"Yeah."

"Night, Faith."

***

__

'I'm the man out here!'

'This scumbag's a murderer!'

'You are one seriously angry -little- dude...'

Bosco's tortured frame jerked backwards, his body threatening to collapse in exhaustion as his mind screamed for it to give up.

He had strange spells where he couldn't tell if he was asleep or awake but even in this disconnected state, the memories kept coming at him like a tide.

Drifting in and out of the present, he saw Vernon's face suddenly appear in front of him, laughing at his helpless condition.

__

'It was nice to meet you, Officer Boscorelli.'

'1844 148th Street, apartment 10...'

His eyes shot open as he recalled one of their many encounters and realized the mistake he'd made. 

Shouting his address out loud in a moment of rage and frustration had seemed harmless that day. He had no way of knowing that the man would use the information he'd willingly given him to carry out his sick revenge and that that would ultimately lead to his mother's death.

Yet it had happened. And it was his fault. 

The pain that came along with the horrible realization was stronger than any inflicted blow, deadlier than any poison, and left him with the certainty that there could be no adequate retribution for him.

He'd committed the ultimate betrayal, a crime for which he would not spend a single day in jail but that in his mind couldn't go unpunished.

Leaning his head back against the wall, he wished his captors had already killed him. Instead, all he'd gotten was a vicious beating that had only served to prolong his mental and physical agony.

The two brothers had done a real number on him, although the younger one had been nothing more than a mere spectator. He could feel every bruise, every aching muscle, but didn't remember any of it. As soon as the first hit had landed, he'd simply closed his eyes and retreated into a place in the deepest corner of his mind. A place where he was always in control, his mother was still alive and no one could hurt him. 

__

'I'm not the devil, baby.'

'You and me should get along somewhere!'

'I'll be back...'

He attempted to shake the memories away but found himself unable to. 

God, make it stop...

He was drained, completely numb, and wanted everything to be quiet and still inside his throbbing head.

__

I'm sorry, Ma. They're gonna pay. We're all gonna pay.

The emptiness he felt was unbearable. That, mixed with the injuries he'd sustained, was making him dizzy and sick but he wrestled with himself to stay awake and forced his eyes back open, blinking at the bright light above him. 

Cautiously glancing around, he spotted the two dark figures in the farthest corner of the room. Upon a further inspection, he noticed that neither of them appeared to be moving. One was lying on his stomach, sprawled out on the cot; the other sat in one of the chairs, the upper half of his body leaned forward on the table, head resting on his forearms.

The men's features were a blur, making it impossible to discern who was who, but he could tell they were both unconscious, asleep maybe, definitely stoned.

As he watched them, amidst the haze of his brain, one thought stood clear. _Revenge_. He had to find a way to take advantage of this situation and get himself out of this mess. There was no apparent solution, but he wouldn't accept that. There had to be a way. He had to find it.

Shifting his body, he felt the wall anchor move and started to sway back and forth, pulling hard on the restraints in hope that it would budge.

His efforts were rewarded a couple minutes later when the metal hook finally gave out under the pressure of his weight and he was down on his feet.

Blood immediately started to flow to his strained limbs, bringing them back to life. His fingers still felt strange and rubbery, but the sensation was back, and that was enough for him. 

He gazed at the two men who luckily hadn't reacted to the noise and bent down, untying his feet as quickly as he could. The sudden movement sent a new wave of nausea sweeping through him but he swallowed it down and struggled to loosen the rope on his wrists, task that proved to be a lot more difficult. 

After a few futile attempts, he decided not to waste any more time and took a couple steps towards the door, limping badly on legs that felt like they didn't belong to him anymore.

Stopping a few feet from it, he looked back to his right. His cop training was screaming at him to get out of there and call for help, yet the enraged son kept looking at the two brothers, clenching and unclenching his fists and desperately fighting the urge to kill them with his bare hands.

As he debated about his next move, he heard movement to his side and found himself staring into the wide, bloodshot eyes of a very confused Leonard. 

It took a moment for the scene to register into the young man's brain, the effect of the drugs slowing down his actions and mental processes. 

"What the hell...?"

Finally realizing that the person in front of him was indeed their prisoner and shouldn't be standing on his feet he rose from his chair, his hand frantically searching the table for the weapon he knew they'd left there.

"The cop's free!" He screamed at the top of his lungs to get his brother's attention.

Bosco, almost relieved that Fate had spared him the decision, ran up to him, tackling him to the ground and grabbing the knife from his hands.

All his senses were suddenly alert, his perceptions astonishingly clear.

"Shut up or you won't live long enough to see me kill your jag-off brother!" He warned darkly, the tip of the blade grazing the shocked man's throat.

Leonard saw the fury in the cop's eyes and for a moment he truly believed he was going to die. God was surely punishing them for killing that innocent woman and kidnapping her son.

"I'm sorry, man, I'm sorry..." he gasped. "Don't do it..."

"I said SHUT UP!"

"I swear I didn't want to..."

"Yeah, well, I don't give a damn!" Bosco's bound fists connected with Leonard's jaw. A bone snapped loudly, a harsh growl escaping his mouth as the back of his head bounced off the floor, knocking him unconscious.

__

One down, one to go, he thought to himself as he took a shaky breath and tried to relieve some of the pressure building inside him.

"Don't move or I'll blow your fucking head off!"

Jermaine's voice echoed in the sudden quietness of the room. 

"Drop the knife."

Bosco heard the cocking of a barrel and turned slowly to face his enemy, who had a gun trained on him and looked deadly serious.

The minute their eyes met, he felt pure rage swelling inside him. This was it. His body tensed, every fiber involuntarily tightening as once again he weighed his options. He could try and go for the gun, with the risk of getting hit, maybe even killed, or comply with the man's requests and wait for another chance.

Knife still clutched in his hands, he closed his eyes and pictured his mother's smiling face, finding within himself the answer he was looking for. 

He took another deep breath, gathering all the strength he had left, then lunged at the man, aiming at the heart.

Jermaine, who wasn't expecting the attack, instinctively fired a shot. His focus on his own actions left him wide open for an attack. He watched in fascinated horror as the sharp blade disappeared just below his ribcage. 

His last thought before he hit the ground was that Vernon wasn't going to like this at all.

"This is for my mother, you sick son of a bitch..." Bosco angrily said as he dropped down on his knees. Pain suddenly ripped through his shoulder and down his right arm and he saw blood slowly starting to seep in from the wound. 

As if unconcerned by it, he glanced back at Jermaine, his gaze dashing between the two forms sprawled on the ground. 

__

I did it, Ma. I found the man who shot you and I made him pay. 

Feeling slightly relieved at the thought that justice had finally been served, he picked up the bloodied knife with his left hand and used it to cut the rope binding his wrists, careful not to hurt himself in the process.

Wincing at the discomfort but eventually succeeded in freeing himself.

__

Now leave. Get the hell out of here.

Tearing his right sleeve with his good hand, he wrapped it around his bleeding arm as best as he could and scrambled to his feet, staggering toward the door. He almost fell a couple times but managed to stay upright. He wouldn't go down. Not now.

Without looking back, he opened it and made his way up the basement stairs. Despite his laboured breathing and the deep, searing pain in his wounded arm he reached the top and moved forward, stumbling on the unfamiliar ground, falling and picking himself up. 

Time gradually lost its meaning, seconds tiredly stretching into minutes as he passed hallway after hallway, opening door after door until he found the exit and stepped outside.

Dark buildings loomed above him in the early morning light while the dizziness increased. Piercing chest pain came with each breath, and he could taste warm, metallic blood in his mouth.

He glanced up at the sky for a moment, as if silently asking which way to go, then started walking again, scanning the streets that appeared not to be holding any signs of life, his unsteady legs carrying him further and further away from his prison.

An indefinite time later, he was forced to stop and leaned his exhausted body against a nearby wall. He couldn't tell where he was, how far he'd walked or if they would ever be able to find him, but he was fine with it now.

He'd avenged his mother's death. There was nothing else to live for.

Feeling his knees buckle, he slid down the wall and sank to the ground, cradling the injured arm to his chest. As the darkness began to overtake his vision, he thought about Faith and how good it had been to feel her arms around him.

Then everything went black.

TBC...


	11. chapter eleven

**A Hopeless Wound (11/?)**

***

A/N: I just realized it's been quite a while since I posted a new chapter, so I spent most of my morning ignoring my work and focusing on part 11. Here it is. :)

I've been apologizing a lot lately, but I don't really have a lot of time to write and I usually want to give my chapters all the attention they need before uploading them, which should partly explain the delay.

Btw, I haven't mentioned my wonderful beta reader in a while so this is for you, Bobbie. Thanks for being always there for me.

This said, please bear with me. I know this is sad, and I know I've probably stretched it too far, but there's things that needed to be written and events that just had to happen before Bosco's finally found. I promise it won't be long. (Next chapter? ;) )

Enjoy!

***

Chapter eleven

***

"Mom?" Emily called, stepping into her parents' bedroom where her mother was getting dressed.

"Yes, honey?"

"There's a cop at the door." She paused for a second. "Dad's talking to him."

Faith looked up to meet her daughter's gaze, fear immediately knotting her stomach. "What cop?"

"Uhm... tall, black guy. He's not wearing a uniform but I think I remember him from the hospital."

"What did he... Nevermind. Thanks, Em." She quickly pulled on a white, long-sleeved shirt and hurried out of the room.

"You're welcome."

The young girl's words were lost to Faith's ears, her mind already racing with panicked thoughts about her former partner. Why had Davis showed up at her place instead of giving her a call? It sure couldn't be good news.

Making her way to the living room, she spotted Fred standing next to the half-open door, arms folded across his chest.

"What happened?" She asked, swinging the door completely open and moving next to her husband.

Ty gave her a small smile. "Faith. I'm sorry, I know it's still early, but I just got off from work."

That had to be good, right? She reasoned. He was smiling. Maybe they'd found Bosco.

"Did you find him?"

"Find who?" Fred inquired. He'd been less than pleased to see the young officer and had tried to question him about it, but the man had insisted that he needed to talk to Faith and that it was important. Figures. 

"Not yet. But we might have a lead."

Faith looked from her husband to her friend, unsure of what to do, then placed one hand on Fred's shoulder. "Give me a minute."

Davis took a step back and she followed him out of the apartment.

"It's Bosco, isn't it?" Fred asked again as the door slowly closed behind them, his voice harsh with disbelief.

Faith sighed and leaned against the wall. 

"He's still holding a grudge against Bosco?" Ty couldn't hide the surprise in his tone.

"You can say that." She raked a hand through her hair, dreading the moment she'd have to get back inside and face him. "So, what's going on?"

"Lieu got a call from Rikers. They said an inmate claims to have information about the missing cop."

Faith's brow creased. "An inmate? How... I mean, when? When did this happen?"

Davis ran a hand over his face. "I'm not sure. Sometimes last night, I guess. Sul and I were out on patrol."

"Why would someone at Rikers know about Bosco?"

He shrugged. "It happens, you know? Inmates looking to flip on other inmates in return for favours or other consideration. The detectives get plenty of calls like that."

"But very few actually lead to anything..." her voice was barely audible.

"Cruz was heading there when I left. Thought I'd let you know."

Faith nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, Ty."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'll see you later, okay? I'm beat, I need to get some shut-eye before the next shift."

She gave him a half-wave gesture. "Of course. Thanks again."

"Sure." He turned around and disappeared down the hall.

Faith closed her eyes for a moment, said a silent prayer hoping that this man, whoever he was, would really be able to help, then opened the door and went back inside.

Fred's inquisitive stare greeted her as soon as she stepped in. "What'd he want?"

She held his gaze and took a step forward. There was really no point in lying to him now. "He's assisting in the search for Bosco. We all are."

Her husband's lips pursed in anger but he managed to keep it under control. "What happened to him?"

Faith walked over to the couch and sat down. "His mother died two days ago, and we have reasons to believe that the men who killed her were going after Bosco. No one has heard from him since yesterday..." She finished as her voice trailed off.

Fred saw the pained expression on his wife's face, but that did nothing to soothe his temper. "I thought we agreed he'd stay out of our lives." 

Faith's eyes narrowed. "This has nothing to do with our lives, Fred. We're talking about a crime here. About a police officer who's missing." 

She rose to her feet and stared him down. 

"I have an obligation to him as a cop, and I'm concerned about him as a friend. He's been my partner for ten years, you can't ask me to forget that."

He started to pace back and forth, shaking his head. "It's too soon, Faith. You shouldn't be involved in this. You just got back."

"But I WANT to be involved in this. And I was reassigned to full duty. Davis said there might be a lead, it's worth a shot."

"It's not worth -being- shot." He replied, letting out an angered breath. 

"Look, I'm not expecting you to agree with my decision or to be happy about it, I'm just asking you to respect it."

A full minute passed as they both stood there, hands on their hips, waiting for the other to say something. When it became painfully clear that Fred's apology would never come and that Faith wasn't going to back down, the first lowered his gaze to the floor and the second walked away.

"Faith..."

"Get the kids off to school. I'm going to work." 

***

The room was small. Too small. And the clock was ticking fast. Too fast.

Maritza Cruz sighed in frustration as she stood in the middle of the interrogation room, her back to the wall, trying to get some useful information from the man seated in front of her.

"What's up, mama? Having a bad day?"

She took a few steps toward him and placed her hands on the table, leaning forward. "Wipe that smug grin off your face, Vernon, or I'll do it for you and I promise it's gonna hurt."

"Oooh, you're scaring me..." He said, faking a frightened tone.

"Want a good reason to be scared? Death penalty." She said quietly, leaning even closer and emphasizing the last two words with two taps of the hand. "That's what a new charge can do."

He cocked his head to the side and tossed her a cold look as he stared her down, his big body squeezed into the small metal chair.

"Murder in the first degree, Vernon. Kidnapping of a police officer." She shook her head. "That won't look good in your file."

The man remained silent, his fingers fidgeting with the shackles.

"Now let me explain this to you one more time."

"What you want from me, Cruz? I ain't do nothing!"

She slammed her fist down on the table. "That's bullshit! We already know you're involved in this. All I need is a name. One name and I'll tell the D.A. you're to good to die."

"No way." He said firmly. "No fucking way. That ain't gonna happen."

Cruz raked a hand thought her dark hair. This was going nowhere. Their time was running out, and with it the chances of finding Bosco alive.

Despite everything that had been said and done, she'd shared a part of her life with him, and felt compelled to help.

Half the precinct had stared at her in astonishment when she'd announced she would be working a double, but she'd ignored them all and focused on doing her job as best as she could. 

Just as he'd told her she didn't deserve the rape, she was positive that he didn't deserve what was happening to him either.

And if he was suffering for his mother even half of what she'd suffered after Lettie's death then she would find the bastard who'd killed her and make sure he got the same treatment as Richard Beauford and Thomas Warner.

She moved around the table, her gaze never leaving his side. 

One hand on the arm of the chair, the other gripping the edge of the table, she bent forward until her mouth was just inches from his ear. "I don't have time to play with you, Vernon. Now here's how it works. You're gonna listen to me, and listen very carefully. I don't care if you don't tell me who your buddy is. I'm gonna find him anyway. Phone records, visit schedules, I can get them all. It'll just take me a little longer, and you straight to the chair." She shrugged, watching tiny beads of perspiration glisten on his forehead.

His eyes slid off Cruz's toward the dull gray walls.

"It's up to you. Let's see how much you care about your own life."

Silence hung over the room, the Sergeant's patience wearing thin by the second as she waited for him to say something.

"I want a deal."

"I don't make deals."

"Sure you do. I give you the cop, you cut me some slack."

Cruz shook her head, a derisive smile curving her lips. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me." 

She grabbed the man by the collar of his prison-issued jumpsuit, anger threatening to finally take over. "I don't think you get it, Vernon. If Bosco dies, there's gonna be no deal. You hear me? Nothing. Now give me the damn name." Her voice rose as she let go of him and crossed her arms over her chest.

Vernon slouched down, a defeated expression on his face. "Okay." He finally said, hunching forward in his seat.

***

"Vernon Marks?"

"Yeah."

"God..."

Faith stared at her boss with wide eyes as the news slowly sunk in.

The man's name definitely rang a bell, echoing sad memories of a time that had marked the beginning of the downfall of her relationship with Bosco and had led to the dissolution of their partnership. 

Although she didn't know the details of the case for it had been handled by Anti-Crime, she'd always known that Vernon was bad news. Obviously, the man had it in for Bosco since he'd put him away and had planned some kind of revenge.

The Lieutenant leaned back in his chair. He had the tired features of someone who hadn't gotten any sleep at night, but the determination in his eyes spoke volumes about his resolve to find one of his best officers. 

"The call came in around midnight. This man, Louis Sherman, has shared a cell with Marks until last week. He's serving ten years for assault and offered to trade information in exchange for mitigation of his sentence."

"What'd he say?"

"Well, it seems that the two of them were pretty tight, and that Mr. Marks liked to talk about how he was going to get his revenge on the cop that had ruined his life. Sergeant Cruz drove up to Rikers as soon as she heard the news." 

"Yeah." Faith whispered as she looked away.

Swersky leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk. "I know you two don't get along. But she gets the job done. And right now we need all the help we can get."

"I know." She nodded. "I just wish I could do something too."

"You will. And if not as a cop, you can be there for him as a friend. If I know Bosco like I think I do, when this is over he's gonna need you more than anyone else." 

Faith raised her head to meet his gaze and couldn't help but smile at how well the man seemed to know them. She was about to reply that she was looking forward to it when the phone started to ring. 

The Lieutenant cleared his throat and picked it up. "Swersky. ... Really? ... When? ... Okay. Keep me posted, Sergeant." He lowered the receiver down on its base and rose to his feet.

Faith instinctively did the same. "That Cruz?"

"Yeah. She got a name. Apparently Marks' brothers are involved in this too. He gave her the address where he thinks they're keeping Bosco." He walked around the desk and headed to the door. "Let's go." 

***

__

'Maurice? Maurice, wake up. You can't stay here.'

The voice was soft but firm, and was calling out to him.

Bosco heard the urgent plea and tried to remember where he was and why he was supposed to move but the reason was lost to him, along with any other coherent thought.

The only thing he was aware of was the pain, fierce and unrelenting, and a numbing cold sweeping through his body.

__

'Maurice? Come on, baby, open your eyes. Your friends are looking for you. You need to wake up.'

"Ma?" He whispered through his dry, cracked lips as he finally recognized it.

Summoning up all his strength, he slowly opened his eyes.

Blue.

Through his cloudy vision, all he could make out was the light blue of the morning sky.

"Ma..." he called again in a child-like moan, his confused mind longing for that kind of reassurance only a mother can give, but his cries remained unanswered as he lay on the frigid ground, his eyelids once again drooping in exhaustion. 

The voice was gone, replaced by an overwhelming quietness. The same resigned calm they say you experience when you realize you're about to face death.

TBC…


	12. chapter twelve

****

A Hopeless Wound (12/?)

***

Author's note: Okay guys, here's another one. We're slowly nearing the end of this story, and although I don't really like to think about it, I seriously need a break! *lol* 

I know a few of you found it weird to see Cruz so focused on finding Bosco (something you'll see in this chapter too), but I'm pretty sure that that's exactly how she'd behave if something happened to him. Deep down, and I mean REALLY down, I think she's got feelings. This does NOT mean I like the character, I'm just cutting her some slack. ;)

Oh, and btw, this is NOT a Bosco/Faith or a Bosco/Cruz shipper story. My fics tend to be close to the 'real' TW world, and I don't see any of it happening any time soon.

This said, enjoy the chapter! :)

***

Chapter twelve

***

Leonard woke up ad instinctively brought his hand up to rub his sore jaw.

He blinked a couple times to clear his vision and slowly sat up. Although the drug had now worn off completely, it took him a moment to recall exactly what had happened and why he was sitting on the pavement.

The cop had knocked him out. He'd freed himself from the ropes and had gone after him, threatening to kill him and...

Fear suddenly washed over him as he pushed himself off the floor and called his brother's name. "J?"

Eyes frantically searching around the room, he turned to his left and felt his heart freeze in his chest. Jermaine was lying on its side on the dark brown tile, his back to him, one hand stretched upward over his head as if he was reaching out to someone.

"J?"

Swallowing down hard, Leonard took a couple steps forward and crouched down in front of him. "Come on, man. Wake up."

As he turned his brother's still form over, he saw the blood soaking the young man's shirt and the knife resting a few feet from him.

"Shit..."

Tears welled up in his eyes. He was no doctor, but living on the street he'd seen plenty of friends die like this. It was inevitable after all. When you're a young boy in Spanish Harlem, your fate is either prison or a box. There's not much you can do about it.

Hands still gripping the bloodied shirt, shoulders slumped in defeat, Leonard bowed his head and gave in to the tears. With Vernon facing a life sentence and Jermaine dead, he was completely alone now. 

The thought sent a rush of panic course through his body and his heart started to pound so loudly it felt as if it would jump right out of his chest. 

He was scared. Totally and completely frightened.

__

What am I gonna do now?

If the cop had called for help like he probably had, the place would be swarming with uniforms in a matter of minutes. He needed to leave.

Glancing at his brother one last time, Leonard wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and rose to his feet, heading for the door.

The harsh cold stung his face as he stepped outside. He roughly stuffed his hands into his pockets and tucked his chin inward, concentrating on keeping his head down and walking at a casual pace.

A few nervous seconds passed, his anxiety growing as he moved and listened to the crunch of his feet on the snow-covered ground.

He was about to cut through a narrow alleyway and disappear from the main road when he was startled by the sound of tires screeching.

The hair prickled up on his flesh and he froze for a second, debating whether or not to look over his shoulder at the car that had just stopped by the curb. Eventually, he chose to keep going.

His decision proved to be the wrong one. He heard footsteps drawing closer behind him and realized that whoever had been driving the vehicle was now following him.

"Hey, you! Stop!" A female voice called.

Leonard turned around and waved her off, then resumed walking.

"I said stop!" The woman called again.

Seconds later, he felt a hand grab his forearm.

"What part of 'stop' did you not understand?"

He glared at her, still unsure if he should consider her a threat or not.

"What's your rush, huh? Am I keeping you from something here?"

"No, I... I just..."

"Good. Wouldn't want to get in your way, Leonard."

A bead of cold sweat trickled down his temple. How in hell did this woman know his name? He studied her Latin features for a moment, struggling to remember if he'd seen her before.

"Who are you?"

She reached behind her back and in one swift move her hand came out from under her jacket with a gun. "Sergeant Cruz, NYPD." She said, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him forward. "Where's your brother?"

Leonard felt his stomach tighten. 

"He's... he's not here." He replied uncomfortably, taking in a deep breath and watching it stream from his mouth in a small, white could of steam.

"He's not. Then why don't you tell me where I can find him?"

"What you want?" He half-yelled. His dark eyes were frantic, almost desperate. He just wanted to be left alone. Was that too much to ask?

"I'm the one who asks the questions here!"

"Alright, alright!"

"Now I want you to show me where your brother is."

"I..." He swallowed hard, sweat still beading his forehead.

"NOW."

Leonard glanced nervously toward the street, looking for salvation or even some kind of diversion he could take advantage of, but in the early morning hours they seemed to be the only people around. 

A dog barked in the distance, probably demanding attention, its insistent cry the only sound echoing through the deserted street.

"I don't know where he is." He lied.

Cruz pressed the gun into the man's throat. "Try again. I can tell when someone's lying to my face." She ran a hand through her hair and went on. "You know, I just had a chat with your big brother Vernon. He told me that you guys have a nice, little place around here. Wanna show me?"

The young man's eyes went wide with fear. "Vernon?"

"Yeah." She patted him on the shoulder. "He told me everything, Len. So you better start talking."

Leonard bowed his head, shifting his eyes to look down at the floor.

"I can show you the place, but you won't find him in there."

"Your brother?"

"The cop."

Cruz stilled. "What are you talking about?"

"He left. Broke free of the ropes. He killed my brother and ran away."

"What'd you do to him?"

"I don't know..."

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?" she asked again, twisting his arm behind his back.

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry! J got a little carried away..."

"Is he hurt?"

"Yeah... I mean, I don't know. We roughed him up a little but..."

Cruz felt a flash of anger spread through her body. 

"Move." She said briskly, shoving him in the back as she led him toward her unmarked vehicle. She slammed him against the cold metal of the car, spread his legs and patted him down, then proceeded to cuff him.

Leonard sighed and closed his eyes. Prison. He would be no exception to the rule.

"I swear I don't know where he is. He knocked me down and killed my brother. I don't know nothing more."

"We'll see about that."

"Maybe if you give me some time..."

"I don't got any more time!" her voice rose, the urgency in it painfully clear. "Watch your head." She added as she put a hand on his neck and pushed him sharply into the doorframe, sending him sprawling across the backseat.

With her suspect now in custody, Maritza Cruz looked around and reached for her portable radio. As much as she wanted to do this on her own, there was just too much at stake, and she knew she couldn't leave Leonard alone while she searched the place.

"5 Sergeant to Central."

"5 Sergeant, go ahead."

"Central, I need back-up at the corner of 135th and Amsterdam. Advise Lt. Swersky that I've got one of the two suspects in custody and that we might need more units at this location."

"Copy that, Sergeant. Back-up's on the way."

Once the static on the radio replaced the dispatcher's grave voice, Cruz clipped the device back on her belt and placed her hands on the hood of the car, leaning forward.

Strands of loose hair fell to frame her tired face as the minutes passed one at a time, each slower that the one before.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour, she heard the sound of an approaching siren and raised her head to see a police cruiser come to a halt not too far from her, lights flashing, its low wail loud enough to drown out the frantic beating of her heart.

Lt. Swersky got out of the vehicle and quickly approached her. "What do we have?"

Cruz straightened up and resumed her defiant pose.

"This is one of Marks' brothers, Sir." She said, pointing to the young man in the backseat of her car. "But unfortunately not the one I was looking for. He claims Bosco killed the other brother and ran away."

The Lieutenant stood still for a second, absorbing the news. "But you don't believe him."

"I don't know."

Faith, who'd been behind the wheels of the RMP, hastily cut the engine and walked up to them. "Any leads?" She asked, casting a sideway glance at Cruz.

"I'm not sure." The Sergeant shook her head. "But we need to check that place out." 

The man nodded. "You and Yokas go inside. I'll call for back-up and keep an eye on Mr. Marks."

The two women held each other's eyes for a long moment in a pointed stare. Neither of them was comfortable with the Lieutenant's order, but they were both smart enough not to mention anything.

"Alright. Let's go." Cruz's voice took on a note of impatience.

"Keep your radios on."

"You got it, Lieu." Faith reassured him as she unholstered her weapon and quickened her pace to catch up with Cruz.

***

"He's not in there." Cruz stated out loud to get the Lieutenant's attention as they hurried out of the building and towards him a short while later. 

Three more units had been called to the scene, uniforms now crowding the previously deserted street. The dog's cries could still be heard not too far from them, but nobody seemed to pay it any attention.

"What?"

"Marks was right. He's gone."

Faith looked at Swersky's confused face and rolled her eyes. "We found the room." She explained. "There's a body in there, probably the other brother. We also found uhm... a rope, cut as if someone had tried to free himself. Weapons, drug supplies. And blood, a lot of it." She finished, lowering her haze to the ground as a sad expression crossed her face. "There are traces going from that room to the hallway and the front door."

Cruz gave her a cold look, angry that she'd stolen her scene. Despite her increasing worry for Bosco's fate, there was just something about Yokas that always grated on her nerves.

"I think we should see if they lead up to something." She quickly added. "If he's hurt, he may be still in the area. He couldn't have walked that far."

Swersky nodded. "You're right."

"You may also want to check the hospitals, Sir." Faith suggested as she ran a hand through her hair. "You know, just in case he called for help." She didn't truly believe in that possibility, but in cases like this it was routine.

"You got it." He took a deep breath. "Alright, can I have everybody's attention, please?"

All the officers immediately gathered around him, the seriousness of the situation prompting them to obey without a second thought.

"The evidence we've found suggest that officer Boscorelli may still be around here. Sarge, you and Yokas will follow-up on those bloodstains. I want the rest of you to split up and canvass the area within I'd say a 2-mile radius." 

His voice was strong and firm as he addressed his men.

"Remember, he may be injured. Search every alley, every dumpster, try every door. We're talking about one of our own." He paused for a second. "You're going to report to me every fifteen minutes. Is everything clear?"

Everyone nodded their understanding.

"Let's roll."

The uniforms quickly dispersed, each set of partner going their separate way until they all disappeared from the Lieutenant's view.

Faith, eager to do something, walked back towards the entrance of the building while Cruz and Swersky took care of a few details and called the Crime Lab. Those bloodstains were bothering her, and she thought she'd start following them on her own.

As she passed one of the RMPs, she glanced at Leonard. The young man seemed calm now, his face expressionless. She'd seen that look before, in the eyes of all the people she'd arrested and gotten a confession out of over the years. It was as if a burden had been lifted off his shoulders.

She shook her head, pushing the thought aside, and made her way to the front door.

There they were. Four red streaks – a hand?- on the left side of the wooden frame, and two small drops on the ground right outside. There was no doubt in her mind that this was Bosco's blood, but that was another thought she needed to shove away. 

She kept her gaze fixed on the asphalt, her eyes frantically scanning every inch of it until she finally found what she was looking for: another drop. And then another. And another.

Her heart started to beat faster. Maybe they were indeed leading somewhere.

Her spirit somehow lifted by the possibility of finding her partner alive, she crouched down beside one of them and closed her eyes for a moment, her hand lingering in the air a mere inch from the dark stain as if touching it would make her feel closer to Bosco.

"Sir, we've got more blood here." She called, turning in his direction.

Swersky walked up to her and stared at the small spot, hands on his hips, with a somber expression on his face.

Behind him, Cruz was still on the phone, no doubt giving a piece of her mind to whoever had the misfortune to be on the other end of the line, her free arm waving around to let her frustration out.

The Lieutenant followed Faith's line of sight. "Go ahead." He said, sensing his officer's restlessness. "She'll catch up when she's done."

"Thanks." She gave him a small smile and rose to her feet, her gaze once again locked to the ground.

As she moved forward and away form the main street, she found more bloodstains, undeniable proof that although hurt, he'd walked at least a couple blocks.

She felt anxious because she knew instinctively that she was close, but she didn't know what she would find once the last stain was spotted, and that scared her to the point that she could barely breathe.

The first fifteen minutes had already passed, and she heard the other officers' voices on the radio as they updated the Lieutenant about their progress, or lack of.

Rounding a corner, she noticed that the traces had become more frequent now, smaller but in groups of two or three, as if the person who'd lost all this blood had paused with each step to gather his strength.

Her chest tightened and she swallowed hard. The thought of Bosco in pain, alone and wandering through these streets after going through who knew what was enough to make her heart pound at an even faster rate, but for the sake of her friend and her own, she knew she had to focus on her assignment and put every personal feelings aside.

A noise suddenly startled her, breaking her away from her thoughts. 

She lifted her gaze, her hand automatically reaching for her weapon, and found herself looking at a brown-haired dog standing a few feet from her.

Faith instinctively backed off, unsure about what to do.

The animal, undoubtedly stray, seemed nervous and was eyeing her suspiciously. 

They stared at each other for a long moment, and she could've sworn his dark eyes were trying to tell her something. Eventually, it started to wag its tail as if deciding to trust her and barked twice, then turned around and headed toward the end of the road.

Faith stood there, a puzzled expression on her face, wondering what had just happened. 

She didn't know how to explain it, and probably would've laughed at anyone who'd told her a similar story, but she felt drawn to that dog and started to follow him, momentarily forgetting about the bloodstains yet walking in the right direction without even realizing it.

The animal sensed her presence and glanced at her, barking again to voice its approval, then moved again, leading her through a long hallway littered with glass and crammed dumpsters.

At the end of it, she spotted someone lying on the ground. She could tell he was a man by the boots he was wearing, though the upper half of his body was hidden by a stack of dirty boxes.

The dog stopped, let out a low moan and curled up next to him.

Faith slowly inched forward until she got close enough to see who he was.

A breath got stuck in her throat.

"Bosco?"

TBC...


	13. chapter thirteen

A Hopeless Wound (13/15)

A/N: Okay, I think I've recovered enough from the finale to try and post something new. sniff Yeah right, who am I kidding... recovering from "Monsters"? No way. I can't believe they were cruel enough to hurt Rose... sniff And here I was, thinking that this fic would just remain a creation of my evil mind! She can't die. She just can't, and seriously hope they'll take the right decision when the time comes. Anyway, I needed to get my mind off the episode for a while so here's another chapter. I'm actually working on the last one so I thought it was safe to say that this will be a fifteen-chapter story.

Now, since TPTB decided to kill Mikey off, the least I could do was give him a second chance in my fic so yeah, you're still gonna see him around. Thanks everyone for the great reviews, I wouldn't have finished it if it wasn't for you! :)

Enjoy!

Chapter thirteen

Faith sat outside Bosco's room in the Intensive Care Unit on the fifth floor of Angel of Mercy, waiting for the nurse to tell her it was okay to get in.

It'd been 72 hours since they'd found him, most of which she'd spent in this very corridor, moving from time to time only to walk up to the glass panel and look at her friend's sleeping form on the other side of it.

If the dull beige walls and the white, plastic chairs could talk, they'd tell about unnerving waits and sleepless nights, of heartaches and fear, tears and relief.

A steaming cup of black coffee stood on the chair next to her. She'd lost count of how many she'd drank, though loading up on caffeine had managed to keep her head clear enough to control her emotions once the adrenaline that had kicked in full gear in the first moments had gradually ebbed.

The doctor had told her it looked worse than it actually was, but he'd also not so subtly hinted that, had she not found him when she had, the hypovolemic shock caused by the blood loss would've probably killed him.

She sighed and took a sip of her coffee, her eyes still fixed on the closed door as she realized how close she'd been to losing him -for good.

When she'd first seen him in that alley, she'd thought for sure he was already dead, yet somehow he'd been spared the same fate of his mother. In Bosco's book, that was not something to be happy about, but she was definitely glad he'd survived.

The shoulder wound he'd sustained was through-and-through, with no damage to the joint or any major vessel, and the surgery to repair it had gone by pretty smoothly.

However, this hadn't been the doctor's main concern when they'd wheeled him into the ER. One of his broken ribs had punctured his left lung, keeping the surgeon and his team busy for quite a while.

As for the rest, there were just minor cuts and bruises that would not bother him more than necessary.

In time, and physically at least, he would recover well.

Faith shifted in her seat and leaned her head back, closing her eyes as the memories of those terrible moments came back to mind.

"Bosco? Oh my god..."

Shock and fear glued her feet to the ground and for an instant, all she could do was stare in stunned silence at the sight in front of her.

He was slumped against the wall, blood soaking through the right side of his shirt. His face was abnormally pale, and sweat beaded his brow, but it was only when her gaze focused on his hands, resting loosely in his lap, that Faith felt tears well up in her eyes.

Right there and then, she had the distinct feeling that it was too late, that she'd lost him forever. But then a painful gasp escaped his lips, and that small yet significant act shook her back to reality, willing her legs to move and kneel over him.

"Bosco? Bos, can you hear me?" She said, clasping his hand in hers.

Beside her, the dog continued to whimper, frantically moving from one side to the other as she reached for her radio and called for help.

After giving the Lieutenant her location, she turned her attention back to Bosco, praying that the medics would get there as soon as they could.

Tearing his blood-soaked shirt to locate the wound and apply pressure on it, she gasped at the multi-colored bruises marking his chest and swallowed down hard, forcing the thought of the beatings he'd had to endure out of her head.

As she firmly held her hands down to press on the bullet hole, flashes of the shooting in Noble's hotel room assaulted her brain. She still had a vague recollection of what had happened that night, but the clearest thing she remembered was laying in Bosco's arms, hearing his pleas as he begged her to hold on, and feeling strangely at ease despite the excruciating pain.

If he was aware of her presence right now, she hoped she would be able to convey the same message.

Unaware of her inner turmoil, Bosco cried out in pain at her touch and weakly lifted his own arm to try and stop whatever was causing him such distress.

"Bos, calm down." She murmured in a soothing tone. "I know it hurts, but I need to stop the blood. Hold on, it's gonna be all right."

His head slowly drifted towards that gentle voice and he struggled to open his eyes, his hand once again searching for some kind of comfort and closing around hers. His heavy lids eventually parted, and he was met with another set of blue eyes.

He stared at what he thought was a familiar face for a moment, then tried to say something when he finally recognized her.

A hoarse whisper came out. "Faith..."

"I'm here. And don't you go away either. Everything will be fine. You're gonna be all right."

He nodded slightly, though he really didn't believe her.

"Help's on the way. You just stay with me, okay?"

He closed his eyes for several seconds, then forced them open again. His pained expression did nothing to reassure her.

"Stay with me, Bosco." She pleaded. "We're going to get through this. I promise you."

"He's dead...I-I did it..." he whispered as his glassy eyes started to roll up into his head.

That was all. His breathing faltered as he lay there, still, then it stopped. His eyes closed and his head lolled to the right as if he didn't have the strength to hold it up anymore.

Faith felt his hand go limp in her grasp and panicked.

Standing on shaky legs, she ran both hands through her hair and looked around, desperately searching for the paramedics or any kind of help.

As if on cue, she heard the sirens getting closer, followed by Carlos' voice.

"Hurry! We're back here!" She yelled, waving her arms to get his attention before resuming her position at Bosco's side.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, a faint smile touched her lips when she turned her head towards him: the dog, an animal they'd never seen before, was licking his hand in a reassuring gesture, the gentleness and compassion in its features something she'd rarely witnessed in humans.

The dog. Faith shook her head at the thought.

She still couldn't explain it, but the animal had saved her partner's life.

The scene had repeated itself a few moments later, as they were loading Bosco onto the bus. The poor thing had started to whine and scratch at the door of the vehicle as if it'd known him its whole life, drawing a few curious stares from the men and women around.

After debating about what to do for a couple minutes, Carlos had called his roommate on their way to the hospital, and Ty had agreed to take care of him for a few hours. By the end of the day and upon hearing the whole story, Michael Boscorelli had decided to take it home with him until his brother could have a say in it. For all she knew, the young man was still keeping it in the small room at the bar where he'd spent the previous nights.

Bosco'd been unconscious most of the time.

The doctor had said his body needed time to recover, especially after the long surgery, but the people who knew him immediately sensed that there was more to it. He simply didn't want to wake up.

Faith had visited him as much as the nurses and the strict rules of the ICU allowed her. She'd talked to him, held his hand, even gotten mad at him for being a stubborn ass, and then one morning while she was home taking a shower and some much-needed rest, he'd just opened his eyes and asked for water.

Mikey had been there a lot too, but he'd barely spoken ever since.

Faith's feeble attempts at trying to get some answers out of him had been all turned down. He obviously wasn't willing to open up, and she didn't want to push him. At least not now. He would shut himself up completely and it just wasn't worth the risk.

Tossing the now empty cup of coffee into the nearest trashcan, she rose to her feet and stretched her sore muscles.

A million thoughts were swirling together in her head as she glanced at the clock on the wall in front of her.

He was teetering on the edge of the abyss. Would they be able to catch him before he fell?

"Bos?"

Faith opened the door to his room, a smile on her face and nearly out of breath, and almost stumbled inside.

The nurse's call had surprised her as she was about to fix herself a quick lunch. Did she want to come and see him? Of course she did. Bosco was awake. It was surely worth skipping a meal.

As soon as she focused in on him though, the smile quickly disappeared.

He was facing away from her, staring at some spot on the wall only he could see. His hair stood up in a rumpled mess on top of his head and his hands were curled around the white fabric of the hospital sheet. She didn't have to look him in the eyes to see the far off look and the pain reflected there, and it nearly broke her heart.

"Hey," she tried again, finally managing to get his attention. "You're awake."

His gaze slowly travelled from the wall to the bed, and finally to her. "Yeah."

She moved over toward the side of his bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess." He shrugged, wincing at the pain it caused his shoulder.

"Good." Faith nodded. "That's good. A lot of people will be happy to hear that."

Bosco let out a breath. He was avoiding eye contact, but she could sense his uneasiness in the way his hand fidgeted with the bracelet on his left wrist.

Her earlier assumption had been right.

To an unaccustomed eye, his behaviour would seem a natural reaction to the ordeal he'd had to go through, but she'd known him for 13 years, and it was clear enough that something was terribly wrong.

"Your brother's gonna be here soon." She continued, pulling up a chair and sitting down. "He was really worried about you. We all were."

Bosco glanced over at her briefly, then laid his head back against the pillow and closed his eyes.

"What happened to the other guy?"

Faith was taken aback by his question, but managed to hide the surprise in her tone. "He uh... he's in jail. The preliminary hearing is tomorrow. If they find him guilty like they probably will, he's looking at 15 to 25 years."

Bosco shook his head. "He was just a pawn."

"Yeah, well, he could've said no." She replied, this time unable to mask her anger. It was the wrong thing to say. She watched his hand grip the bed rail and immediately regretted the words.

"Sometimes you simply have no choice." He whispered a moment later.

Several seconds passed by as neither of them spoke.

Faith reached out her hand in comfort, but dropped it before touching him. Maybe it's too soon, she reasoned. He'll talk when he's ready.

As she listened to the sound of his breathing, she noticed that it was gradually becoming fast and shallow. Concern spread across her face and she stood up, leaning on the edge of the bed while the heart monitor increased its beeping.

"Bos, you okay?"

He took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Yeah."

"Want me to call your doctor?"

"No." His voice was barely audible. "I'm just... tired."

"Okay." She bit on her bottom lip. "I think I'm gonna go sit outside now. You need to rest." She gave his arm a light squeeze. "I'll see you later, okay?"

Bosco nodded without opening his eyes and placed one hand on his chest as his breathing slowly turned back to normal.

"Officer, you can go in now if you want."

The nurse, who'd finally finished checking on Bosco, walked up to Faith and put a hand on her shoulder.

"What? Oh, thanks." She replied as she rose to her feet. "How is he?"

The woman smiled. "He's doing pretty good. The shoulder's healing nicely, and so is his lung. He'll be sore for a while, but the worst is over."

Faith returned the smile and gathered her purse. "Has Doctor Morris talked to him yet?"

She shook her head. "He's been busy. One of his patients tried to kill himself last night. He said he'd try and see him later."

"I see. Thanks, Beth."

"No problem." The nurse started to leave, then stopped and turned around. "You know, I... I hope he can help. I hate to see him like this."

Faith lowered her head. "I know."

She watched the other woman disappear into another room and sighed, wondering if another shrink was really what he needed.

Through the glass panel, she could still see the lost look in his eyes as he stared at the exact same spot on the wall.

Yeah, maybe it was.

Her hand paused on the door handle for a moment and she drew in a breath, trying to collect her thoughts.

Then, with the certainty that she would do her best to help him out whether he liked it or not, she turned the knob and stepped inside.

Mikey looked at Faith as she came out of his brother's room, and frowned at the defeated expression on her face.

She was leaning against the door, eyes closed, her head touching the wooden surface.

He shook his head. If she hadn't been able to get through him, there was no way in hell he would succeed.

"It's that bad, huh?" he said, his words a statement more than a question.

His voice broke her away from her thoughts. "Sorry. I didn't realize you were here."

Mikey ran a hand through his hair. "What's wrong with him?"

"I honestly don't know. I thought it was too soon at first, you know? That he needed more time. But it's been three days now. He won't talk. He won't fight, grieve or even rationalize." She raised her hands in surrender. "I have no idea what's going through his head and it's killing me, because I don't know how to help."

"Mom's always been the one who could reach through him..." he whispered as he slumped down into one of the chairs, his features displaying how frustrated he was.

"I've never seen him like this. I mean, Mo's always been a loud mouth. But this... this silence... I just don't know what to do."

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and cradled his head in his hands.

Watching the young man struggle to try and come to terms with a situation that was too big for him to handle, Faith actually felt bad for him, realizing for the first time how truly devastating Rose's death had been for both her sons.

Mikey sure wasn't a perfect person, but he did love his big brother, and couldn't bear to witness the only stable thing in his world fall apart before his very eyes.

She sat down next to him and placed a reassuring hand on his back.

"The doctor's probably gonna come by later."

A sad smile curved his lips as he turned in the seat to look at her. "He's not gonna like this."

"Well, then he's more than welcome to yell at me. I'd rather see him mad than staring at that damn wall." She was quiet for a moment. "Any kind of reaction would be good right now."

Mikey started to play with the gold chain at his throat, the same one his mother had worn most of her life and that they'd found at the bar the night Bosco was kidnapped.

"We used to be close, you know? Like real brothers." He said, and for a moment the same far away look she'd just seen in his brother's eyes crossed his gaze. "Not sure what happened to change that... Seems like a lifetime ago now."

"People grow up." Faith whispered, but loud enough for him to hear it.

"I don't really know him anymore." He continued, covering his face with his hands, then dragging them up over his hair. "And it scares me, 'cause now that I'm clean and trying to get my life back together I'm afraid he doesn't want to have anything to do with me."

There was a moment of silence.

"I don't want him to think I'm the same loser I was six months ago 'cause I'm not. This... even before this happened... I'm changed. And now that mom's dead I... I need him to believe that." He admitted, his voice quivering with emotion.

Faith squeezed his shoulder. "It's gonna be all right, Mikey."

"Yeah." The young man stood up and nodded his head. "I'm gonna go in now."

"I think he's asleep right now."

"It's okay. I'll just sit with him for a little while."

"Okay." She pushed herself into a standing position. "I'm gonna head home. You call me if you need anything, alright?"

"Sure. Thanks, Faith."

"You're welcome."

TBC...


	14. chapter fourteen

A Hopeless Wound (14/15)

A/N: I thought I'd feel better as the days went by, hoped I'd be able to forget the finale and all the events that led to it... Boy, was I wrong... :( My mind is still racing a mile a minute, trying to come up with some answers as to what's going to happen in the premiere, and I'm counting days until September, which means things are getting worse instead of better.

I also feel the need to write something about Mikey's death, and I probably will as soon as I finish this one. I can't believe he's really gone… As my friend Bobbie said, he was just so nothing near perfect that you couldn't help but love him. sniff

Anyway, Three Doors Down's "Away From The Sun" CD was playing in the background while I was writing this chapter so if you're familiar with it you'll probably recognize a few words. I realized it fit perfectly the mood I was in and the mood my character (Bosco) was in so I couldn't help but borrow some of the best lines.

Enjoy, and thanks again for the amazing feedback.

* * *

Chapter fourteen

* * *

He was standing on a porch.

The setting was familiar, and he realized he knew the house from his childhood. Brooklyn.

Only he was an adult now.

The sun had sunk almost completely into the horizon, its warm rays slowly replaced by a chilly breeze.

Another figure stood a few feet from him at the bottom of the stairs.

She had her hair down, her favourite silk scarf wrapped around her neck, and she was smiling at him.

Bosco smiled too, unable to resist his mother's mischievous grin, until an unexpected clap of thunder pierced the air, startling him.

Her expression grew suddenly serious and she started to walk away from him, headed towards the woods behind the property.

Bosco stood still for a moment. Something was wrong with the picture. There were no woods in Brooklyn.

He wanted to shout a warning, but no sound escaped his lips.

She waved at him as the rain started to fall, then turned around and moved forward.

Feeling his heartbeat quicken with fear, he raised one foot to go after her, but realized with horror that the house was completely surrounded by water, making it impossible for him to follow her path.

He tried desperately to call her back but couldn't make her hear him, and watched in despair as she disappeared further and further into the heart of the forest.

A moment later, he woke up to the sound of his own voice calling for help.

Mikey, who was pretty familiar with his brother's nightmares despite his attempts to hide or dismiss them, leapt from his chair and was immediately at his side.

He'd been sitting with him for about twenty minutes, and had watched his peaceful sleep become increasingly restless, figuring he was probably dreaming about her. Just as he was considering waking him up, he'd heard the agonizing cry.

"Mo? It's all right, bro. It was just a dream. It's over now." He said, his hands curling around the railing as he swallowed down hard.

Their eyes met, and the look of terror he saw reflected there shook him to the core. How was he supposed to comfort him when he was totally scared himself? He was usually the one who needed to be reassured, not the other way around.

Standing there, recalling all the times Maurice had managed to make him feel better as they were growing up, Mikey felt the respect he'd always had for him grow even more and realized that sometimes, sometimes even the strongest persons break down, and that it was okay to step up for a while and take the burden his big brother had carried most of his life.

"It's okay." He repeated, trying to sound convincing.

And when the other man lifted his hand and reached for him, Mikey genuinely thought that things were going to get better.

But the frightened expression he'd seen on his face was still there, and he was now clutching his shirt as if his life depended on it.

"What's wrong, man? You in pain?"

Bosco didn't hear his brother's questions, the ringing building in his ears drowning out every other sound.

Mouth slightly open to try and get some air into his lungs, he held onto Mikey as his heart raced and sweat burst from every pore.

The sudden movement, combined with the terrible images from his dream, had left him temporarily unable to breathe, and though he wouldn't admit it to anyone, he feared that what he was experiencing was a panic attack.

He hadn't had one in a really long time, but it was definitely the only way to explain what had happened with Faith earlier and what he was feeling right now.

He took a shaky breath, closed his eyes and slowly released the grip on his brother's shirt, becoming gradually aware of the young man's strained voice as he helped him lie back down on the bed.

Seconds passed, and his breathing finally calmed. His power of reason returned. The anxiety attack had passed.

He inhaled deeply and rested his uninjured hand on his chest, waiting for the trembling to stop.

"... Remember what you used to tell me? It's all in your head, Mike. You can fight this."

His kid brother was trying to be strong for him. The thought brought tears to his eyes and he turned away from him.

"... I got nightmares too, you know. It's okay."

I know you do, Mike. Please stop.

The whole dream had lasted no more than a minute or two, yet the intensity of it and the emotions it'd evoked were sure to last a lifetime.

He wasn't supposed to be scared of anything, but lying on the damp sheet, eyes clenched shut, he felt as if his mother's death had left him walking through the world alone, struggling to find a new meaning to a life that had been forever changed.

It was like a whole piece of himself was missing and nothing mattered anymore. Nothing worth fighting for.

A terrible numbness hung around his heart.

He knew he was drowning, sinking into the dark abyss that had enveloped him like a thick blanket. Part of him wanted to fight it, but the pressure was just too much and he was exhausted, unable to find the strength to lift himself up.

Even after killing the man who'd taken her life, the feeling of blame still surrounded him, overwhelming him, chocking him. He'd never lost it, and probably never would.

His chest burned. Not with pain, and no longer with anger. It was pure helplessness now. He didn't like it, yet welcomed it anyway.

She'd taught him that life's like a boxing ring. You just keep taking the blows and get back on your feet. A perfect choice of words considering what she'd been through. Only this time, he wasn't sure he wanted to get up.

Not for himself, and not even for Mikey. He'd just had too much. It was time to step aside for a while and let someone else carry on the weight of the world.

Maybe he was being selfish, but for once in his life, he was determined to back down. He'd already caused people enough pain.

Facing the consequences of his actions and making sure any of it would ever happen again was the resolution for this second part of his existence, the one that had started when he'd lost the thing he held more precious in life.

And that meant staying away from everyone he'd hurt in the past, Mikey included. He'd failed him, just like he'd failed his mother.

Yeah. Death would have definitely been a better option, he reasoned within himself, lips pressed tightly together.

Shaking his head, he reluctantly opened his eyes, focusing as he'd imagined on Michael's tired face and seeing the worry clearly written across it.

"Thank god." The younger man whispered. "You okay now, right?"

"Yeah." He replied unconvincingly.

"Good." Mikey nodded, smiling nervously as he raked a hand through his hair and returned to his chair beside the bed. "You scared me for a moment. Thought you were having a heart attack or something."

Trust me, man. You don't wanna know.

Silence filled the room for several seconds. Bosco's hand unconsciously reached for the bracelet, a habit he seemed to have developed every time he had a visitor, while Mikey's leg started to bounce, slowly at first, then increasingly faster.

"Doctor said you're doing good." The younger man finally said when the tension became unbearable. "A couple more days and they'll spring you from this joint."

"I can't wait." Bosco said softly.

Mikey frowned. "What happened to you, man? Last I checked, you hated hospitals."

I still do, but what's waiting for me outside?

"Look, I'm sorry about what I said. I know it's not your fault she's dead." He quickly added, afraid he was still mad at him for the scene outside his place. He wouldn't hold his eyes, which was okay with Bosco, because he would sure have trouble looking back at him.

"You're sorry. Everybody's fucking sorry, but nobody's..." he didn't finish and looked away for a long moment.

Mikey blinked back tears. "Mo, listen to me." He pleaded. "I couldn't help what I did. But I'm here now. I can help." He leaned forward and touched his brother's arm.

Bosco remained unresponsive. It was as if he was tuning him out, looking at him like he was simply moving his mouth without uttering a single word.

Damn. Mikey's patience was wearing thin. He had no idea what to say to get him out of this 'I'm-not-talking-to-anybody-'cause-nobody-understands' state, and the whole situation was driving him crazy.

"Maurice..."

"Leave me alone, Michael." Bosco's voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "I'm tired. I don't wanna talk right now."

"Why everything always has to be about you?" The anger in his tone surprised them both. The younger man stood up and walked directly in front of him. "Think I don't know what you're going through? She was my mother too. And I feel bad too!"

Forced to meet his brother's gaze, Bosco saw his eyes mirroring the pain he was feeling.

I can't do this. Pushing him away wasn't the smartest choice, but he didn't have the strength to take care of him too.

After waiting in vain for some kind of reaction, Michael shook his head and took a step towards the door. "Fine. If you don't wanna talk to me then maybe you'll talk to the shrink that's supposed to come over." He said, throwing his arms out in defeat and heading outside.

Bosco closed his eyes again, mentally kicking himself for the way he was treating the only relative he'd got left.

Sure there was his father, but he'd sworn a long time ago he wouldn't have anything to do with the man, and that basically left him out of the picture.

He heard his footsteps as he walked away and sighed. This was totally wrong. Mikey didn't deserve it, not now that he was apparently clean and desperately looking for another chance to do things right.

Who am I kidding? He thought to himself as realization dawned on him.

Trying to deny it wasn't going to do him any good. He needed him, probably just as much as Michael needed him. And he sure was a hell of a lot better than some shrink who'd treat him like a nut case.

"Mike. Wait." The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop them.

The young man's hand stilled on the handle, his heart thumping loudly as he expectantly turned around.

"I'm sorry." His voice crumbled. "I shouldn't have... That was stupid."

Mikey's lips curved into a small smile.

"I just... I can't take the responsibility anymore."

There. He'd said it. He studied his brother's face, wondering what his reaction would be.

Mikey lowered his gaze as he considered his words.

"It's okay, man. I understand that." He said, walking up to the bed. "I'm not asking you to take care of me. I just want us to be brothers again. That's what mom would want."

Bosco nodded. He was right. He could still be there for him. Not as the father he'd been forced to be, but as the brother who didn't have to shoulder responsibilities, just share them with him. And right now, the thought of sharing the pain and loss he was feeling sounded pretty damn good.

For the first time since the whole ordeal had started, he saw in the turmoil of blackness above him a single star, its light bright enough to guide him back to the surface.

"Yeah." He finally smiled. "That's what she'd want."

Mikey sat on the edge of the bed. "Remember when she caught me smoking weed in the garage? Man, the look on her face... I thought I'd be grounded for life."

Bosco's smile broadened. "And she punished me too 'cause she thought I'd given it to you."

He felt his eyes fill with tears, though this time they didn't come from sadness but relief.

"Wait. I got something for you." Mikey unhooked the gold chain from his neck and handed it to him. "I think you should have it."

Bosco held it in his palm, staring at it as if it held all the answers he was looking for, then closed his hand around it. "Thanks, man."

"Not a problem." He shifted his eyes to look down at the floor. "You know, we should talk about the dog that's been living with me since they found you."

"What dog?"

"Oh, it's a long story, but a really good one. Wanna hear it?"

Bosco grinned. "You bet."

TBC in the final chapter...


	15. chapter fifteen

A Hopeless Wound (15/15)

...

A/N: Okay, here it is. The final chapter. I was supposed to post it a few days ago but my computer crashed and I had to type it again. I thought I'd shed enough tears on this one, but every time I read some words, or a small paragraph, I still cry over it. :(

This story's been my favourite so far. When I started it, I wasn't sure what your reaction would be, but then I read your wonderful reviews and believe me, your constant support is one of the reasons I finished it. Thank you everyone for sticking with me. I know this is a sad one, so I appreciate it even more. A special thank you goes to my beta reader Bobbie who's been there for me throughout the whole process, encouraging me when I thought what I'd written was crap.

I'm still crossing my fingers that TPTB decides NOT to follow my idea. This is a work of fiction, but in the 'real' TW, Rose has to be okay. She just can't die. Btw, if something 'good' has come out of "Monsters", it's been the whole funeral scene. I had no idea how these thing work in the US and found it very helpful. Other than that, I'm still dealing with it...

This chapter is dedicated to my fellow Charlie Day fan Fyre. I'll be back. Eventually. :)

Enjoy

...

Chapter fifteen

...

"Are you ready?"

"Would you ever be?"

Faith lowered her head. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to..."

"I know."

His head was down, but he didn't flinch or even move when her hand touched his shoulder, instead welcoming it as a much-needed, reassuring gesture.

Everything was ready for the wake at the funeral home: the flowers, the music, the people. Everything but Bosco, who'd needed an extra moment to compose himself before the whole thing began and was standing outside the building, hands stuffed deep in his pockets not to let anyone see they were shaking.

He'd been discharged from the hospital a few hours earlier, just in time to swing by his place to change and arrange the final details with the funeral director.

"Where's Mikey?"

"He's waiting inside."

Bosco nodded. If it wasn't for his brother, he'd probably still be staring at the wall in the ICU room.

Michael had unexpectedly been able to succeed where everyone else had failed. He'd gotten through to him, reaching out a hand and pulling him back from the edge of the abyss he was about to fall into.

Not only had he helped him see that there was still a life worth living, but he'd also promised he would be there for him every step of the way.

If something good had come out of all this, it was the realization that they'd found each other again.

"Should we uh, head back in there?" he asked, pointing to the door, as if a negative answer could change the course of events and they could walk away from the place believing none of it had ever happened.

"Take your time. We'll go when you're ready."

Patching up his relationship with Mikey had also helped him clear things out with Faith.

She'd never given up on him. Not once during those long days at Mercy, tiredlessly waiting outside his door until he'd found the nerve to let her in.

It had been a heartfelt discussion, the kind only true friends share. They'd both apologized, each conscious of their own mistakes, and eventually agreed to do their best to salvage what was left of their friendship.

Realizing that it usually takes the tragedy of a loss to understand how much we care about someone, and with the wound still fresh in their hearts, they'd vowed never to take the other for granted again.

"She was right, you know?"

"Who?"

"My mom. She said in time, everything was gonna be all right between us."

Faith pressed her lips together in an attempt to hold back tears.

"Mothers are always right." She replied after a long pause, offering him a sad smile. "That's what they usually say."

"Yeah."

He ran a hand through his hair. "I still can't believe she's gone."

"I know."

Bosco turned away from her for a moment, drawing in a deep breath and rubbing his tired face, then squared his shoulders and locked his gaze on the half-open door of the funeral home.

The familiar tough-guy demeanor was back. He'd weathered the storm and pulled himself together, at least enough to face the crowd of friends and relatives waiting inside.

"I'm ready."

...

"..._The Lord is my shepherd: I shall not want. He maketh me to lay down in green pastures_..."

The priest's sympathetic voice filled the air as he talked about God, Fate and Heaven, carried by a faint northern breeze that played with the neatly arranged flowers and scattered leaves all around the cemetery.

Bosco barely heard it. Standing at his mother's grave, a simple long-stemmed rose in his hand, all he could hear was the beating of his own heart.

His eyes were fixed on the purple banner on top of the casket, studying every single letter of the word "Mother" engraved on it.

What he'd been through -the kidnapping, the beatings, Vernon Marks and his brothers, seemed like a memory from a previous life.

"... _Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me_..."

Faith casted a sideway glance at him as once again, tears prickled her eyes.

He looked weak and thin, the stress and lack of sleep no doubt starting to catch up with him, robbing his eyes of the fierce sparkle that had always characterized him. She couldn't bear to see him in such an uncomfortable state.

The function at the funeral home had been a walk in the park compared to this.

On his right, elegant in a dark blue suit, Mikey kept his gaze downward, as if afraid to face the truth of a reality that was too much to bear.

Still surprised at the number of people who had gathered to pay their last respects to Rose, she turned her head to the side and met Ty's gentle, brown eyes as the priest continued to talk.

"... _Nothing wounds the human heart more deeply than the loss of a loved one. Death marks the end of our life on this earth, but for those who believe in God and the power of His love, it is also the beginning of another life where the Lord himself, in goodness and kindness, welcomes us in his house. 'I am the Good Shepherd,' Jesus says. 'I go to prepare a place for you.'_ "

He paused for a second, studying the grieving faces around him.

"_As we mourn the loss of our beloved Angela Rose and pray for those who love her, we shall believe that she's in God's house now, waiting for us to join her in the after-life that we so eagerly await_."

Bosco closed his eyes and prayed with all his might that the man was indeed right, and that his mother was really somewhere else. Someplace safe, where there would be no crying, no suffering, only long-deserved joy and happiness.

That's what they'd always taught him, and though he wasn't sure his faith was strong enough to accept it, he willed himself to believe it. She would wait for him, looking out for her sons until the day when they would be reunited again.

Forcing back tears, he squeezed Mikey's shoulder. He felt that if he ever started shedding them, he'd never be able to stop.

Suddenly, the world blurred in front of his eyes and he was back in his bedroom, kneeled over her still form, watching her precious blood stain the pavement. He blinked, and in the next moment found himself inside her hospital room as the heart monitor beeped with alarm.

The memories were back, messing with his mind. How was he supposed to move on?

Despite all his efforts to control himself, a tear leaked from the corner of his eye.

Some wounds could not be mended. The demons couldn't all be settled.

As his brother returned the gesture he blinked again, and the world snapped back into view. He swallowed down hard and looked around, realizing that the priest had stopped talking and that Faith was eyeing him worriedly.

"Bos," she gently called him.

He touched his cheek. _Shit_. He was crying.

"It's time."

He nodded his head and walked up to the casket, placing the rose on top of it.

"I love you, Ma." He whispered as his hand lingered on the wooden surface. He stood there for a moment, reluctant to break that last contact with her, then turned around and resumed his place, allowing Michael to do the same.

The two brothers hugged, both mumbling words that couldn't express what they were truly feeling.

"It's gonna be all right, Mike." He said solemnly, mostly to reassure himself than him.

Almost overwhelmed by the heartbroken sadness that surrounded him and feeling the intensity of everyone's gaze, he had the sudden urge to run away, to hide in some deep, dark place where no one could look at him too closely and see that he was afraid. Afraid of everything –his future, his life, his career.

His legs went weak a few moments later when the casket was lowered into the ground, and he had to physically restrain himself from yelling that no, she didn't deserve to be buried so deep, concealed from the world and the people who loved her.

"I'm right here, Bosco." Faith whispered, feeling her chest tighten.

He reached for her hand and held it tight. "Thank you."

As the services came to an end and everyone slowly moved towards their cars, Bosco swiped at his eyes and met his partner's gaze.

"Everything's gonna be all right." She murmured with renewed strenght.

He looked at her trustingly and nodded in agreement.

Maybe this time it would really be true.

...

Faith eased her hand from the steering wheel, resting her elbow on the window as she waited for the light to turn green.

Another block and they'd reach the place where they'd agreed to meet after the services.

She sighed.

The ride from the cemetery had been a long, silent one. Bosco had insisted they'd drive in his car instead of the black, ugly-looking limo, but he was obviously too distraught to sit behind the wheel and had easily given up his keys when she'd asked for them.

Getting him to leave had been a totally different story.

He would take a step forward and then turn around to stare at the freshly-dug grave with tears in his eyes, shake his head to apologize only to stop again a moment later and start it all over again.

Watching him, Faith couldn't help but wonder how her own kids would react to such a terrible loss.

Despite being a cop herself and having come pretty close to dying a few months before she'd never really thought about that. Only now, in the light of her best friend's distressing experience, it came painfully clear just how much a sudde death can affect the people who love you.

Would Emily and Charlie be able to handle what Bosco was currently going through?

Age difference aside, it was the unique relationship he'd shared with Rose that had brought her to question her role as a mother and the impact that her disappearance would have in their lives.

"You can go now."

Bosco's voice shook her back to the present. "What?"

"The light. It's green."

"Oh." Her lips broke into a small smile. "I guess I zoned out for a moment."

He didn't acknowledge her reply, instead retreating back into his broken, messed-up world.

As much as he tried to fight it, he still had these spells in which he found himself distancing from reality.

Sometimes, little things got him going, like a smell or a commercial on TV. He'd feel a memory stirring, struggling to come up to the surface, and tried his best to push it down again.

Other times, when he was still in the hospital, he'd stand in front of the mirror in the small bathroom, looking into his own eyes and trying to get some sense of the man living there.

The anxiety attacks had lessened over the last couple days, but he knew he had a long road ahead of him before he could put everything behind.

He inhaled deeply and glanced out the window, becoming finally aware of their location.

Faith hadn't told him where they were going, but he realized he knew the area like the back of his hand.

His body stiffened as an irrational fear took hold of him, and he wished she'd just driven him home.

The first click of the turn signal interrupted his thoughts and he jumped as if a gun had fired.

"Bos? You alright?" Faith asked quietly.

He managed to turn his head. She was looking at him with genuine concern.

"Faith, why... what are we doing here?"

"I'm sorry, I know we didn't tell you, but Mikey thought it'd be a good idea to get together after the services."

Bosco ran a hand over his face. "I'm not sure I can do this..." His voice barely audible.

"It's gonna be okay." She said, turning in the seat so she was facing him. "Trust me."

Slumping his shoulders in defeat, he glanced out the window again as the car slowed down and the bar finally came into view.

His eyes widened.

"What is this?" He asked, staring at the brand-new sign over the entrance, the words "Rose's Bar" spelled out in red, gothic type.

Faith smiled and reached over to push the buckle release. "I think you should ask your brother."

Bosco hesitated for a moment, then forced his way out of the vehicle, still unable to tear his gaze off it. "Mikey did this?"

"Yeah." She opened the door and motioned for him to get in. "You should see the inside. He's worked real hard."

Soft music greeted them as they stepped in, mixed with the low hum of people talking.

Bosco froze in his tracks. The place was nothing like he remembered it, especially after the way he'd trashed it the night his mother had died. The lights, the furniture, the equipment -everything was new. If it wasn't for his friends' familiar faces, he'd have thought he'd come to the wrong place.

"Hey, bro!" Mikey called from behind the counter. "How'd you like the place?"

He put down the rag he was using to wipe it off and walked up to him.

Bosco shook his head, struggling to keep his emotions in check. Here was his kid brother, shouldering responsibilities for the first time in his life and proving that people can indeed change if they really want it.

"You did this all by yourself?" He eventually managed to ask.

Mikey smiled, a proud expression on his face. "Mostly. Your friends helped me out with the money and the cleaning, but the rest was all me."

Bosco turned to look at Faith, searching her eyes for any proof that she'd been involved in this the whole time. She winked at him but didn't reply. He glanced around the room. Ty nodded at him, raising his beer in his honor, and so did Sully, Swersky and a couple other officers.

"So, you like it?"

"I... That's great. I really don't know what to say."

"Thought it was a good place to start, you know? To do something good with my life. This way we won't lose it and I'm gonna have a real job."

"Wait," he interrupted him as the true meaning of his words sunk in. "That means you own it now?"

"-We- do." Mikey announced brightly. "Well, technically my name's on the contract but, you know, that don't mean anything, man."

Bosco ducked his head, feeling dangerously close to tears again.

Keeping the bar had been his main concern. He knew he didn't have neither money nor time to invest on it, but at the same time didn't want to give up a part of his mother's life. He couldn't believe Michael had solved it all.

"You did good, Mike. Mom would be proud of you."

"Thanks, bro." The younger man replied, patting him on the shoulder.

Before either of them could say anything more, the dog came running from the back of the room, heading towards Bosco, excitedly wagging its tail and barking to get his attention.

He stood still for a moment, staring at the animal as it jumped all around him.

He didn't remember much since escaping from the building where Leonard and Jermaine had held him captive, but after hearing Michael's story about how it'd apparently led Faith to where he was and basically saved his life he wondered if it was some kind of sign, that his mother had sent it to take care of him.

As childish and stupid as it sounded, that's what he needed to believe.

"I think he likes you, Mo." Mikey laughed.

Bosco kneeled down and stroked its head, feeling strangely at ease in its presence.

"Hey, buddy. I heard I owe you one."

The dog barked once more as if to reply, then crouched down at his feet.

"Yeah, he definitely likes you." Faith echoed. "I think you should keep him."

He nodded. "Yeah. I'd like to."

Having something to greet him at the end of the day would definitely be nice. He wasn't sure he could bear the silence of his apartment.

"What do you say, pal?" He asked as he patted its back. "Need a roommate?"

The dog barked again.

"Well, I guess it's all settled then."

Rising to full height, he noticed Davis standing right next to him.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"It's good to see you back on your feet."

"Yeah. Listen, I... Thanks, Ty."

Davis waved a dismissive hand. "Ah, don't even mention it. We didn't do anything special."

"I'm serious, man." Bosco continued, running a hand through his hair. "This... you have no idea how much it means to me."

"Then I'm glad we could help." He replied, taking a sip of his beer.

You sure did, Bosco thought to himself. He nodded and walked over to the stools, carefully lowering himself into one.

His sore ribs still hurt, though it was the implications of what he'd just learned that he still needed to absorb.

He'd never thought of his friends at work as family, at least not in the most 'private' sense, but after all they'd done to help him and Michael he was starting to think them differently.

His eyes roamed across the room, taking in the sight of the beautifully renovated place, and his lips curved into a small smile.

Yep. Mothers are always right.

A moment later, Faith sat down next to him.

"You alright?"

He shrugged. "I'll survive."

"Good. I'm sort of counting on that."

THE END


End file.
